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HE FACE OF ROSE/NFEL. 




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THE COUNTY FAIR. 


By NEIL BURGESS. 

Written from the celebrated play now 
running its second continuous season in 
New York, and booked to run a third sea- 
son in the same theater. 

The scenes are among the New Hamp- 
shire hills, and picture the bright side of 
country life. The story is full of amusing 
events and happy incidents, something 
after the style of our “Old Homestead,” 
which is having such an enormous sale. 

THE COUNTY FAIir will be one 
of the great hits of the season, and should 
^ you fail to secure a copy you will miss a 
I'// literary treat. It is a spirited romance of 
town and country, and a faithful repro- 
duction of the drama, with the same unique 
characters, the same graphic scenes, but 
with the narrative more artistically rounded, and completed than w'as 
possible in the brief limits of a dramatic representation. This touch- 
ing story effectively demonstrates that it is possible to produce a novel 
which is at once wholesome and interesting in every part, without the 
introduction of an impure thought or suggestion. Head the following 



OPINIONS OF THE PRESS: 

Mr. Neil Burgess has rewritten his play, “The County Fair,” in story form. It 
rounds out a narrative which is comparatively but sketched in the play. It only needs 
the first sentence to set going the memory and imagination of those who have seen the 
latter and whet the appetite for the rest of this lively concei)tion of a live dramatist.— 
Brooklwi Daily Eagle. 

As “The County Fair” threatens to remain in New York for a long time the general 
public out of town may be glad to learn that the idaywright has put the piece into print 
in the form of a story. A tale based upon a play may sometimes lack certain literary 
qualities, but it never is the sort of thing over which any one can fall asleep. For- 
tunately, “The County Fair” on the stage and in print is by the same author, so there 
can be no reason for fearing that the book misses any of the points of the drama which 
has been so successful — A. Y. Herald. 

The idea of turning successful plays into novels seems to be getting popular. The 
latest book of this description is a story reproducing the action and incidents of Neil 
Burgess’ play, “The County Fair.” The tale, which is a romance based on scenes of 
home life and domestic joys and sorrows, follows closely the lines of the drama in 
story and lAoi.— Chicago Daily News. 

Mr, Burgess’ amusing play, “The County Fair.” has been received with such favor 
that he has worked it over and expanded it into a novel of more than 200 pages. It will 
be en jewed even by those who have never heard the play and still more by those who 
hsi\e.— Cincinnati Times- Star. 

This touching story effectively demonstrates that it is possible to produce a novel 
which is at once wholesome and interestinji- in every part, without the introduction of 
an impure thought or suggestion.— A Press. 

Street & Smith have issued “The County Fair,” This is a faithful reproduction of 
the drama of that name and is an affecting and vivid story of domestic life, joy and 
sorrow, and rural scenes,— iSan Fra^icisco Call. 

This romance is written from the play of this name and is full of touching incidents. 
—Evansville Journal. 

It is founded on the popular play of the same name, in which Neil Burgess, who is 
also the author of the story, has achieved the dramatic success of the season.— 
Biver Herald. 


■rixo is No. 33 of “The Select Series,” for 

sale liy all Newsdealers, or will be seut, on receipt of price, 25 cents, to any 
address, postpaid, by STREET & 8A11TH, PubUshers, 25-31 Bose st., New York. 


THE SELECT SERIES. 

A WEEKLY PUBLICATION. 

I3evoted to Grood. Reading in American JB'iction. 

Subscription Price, $13.00 Per Year. No. 54.— AUG-UST 18, 1890. 
Coiyyrightedj 1890, by Street <£ Smith. 

Entered at the Post Office, New York, as Second-Class Matter. 



The Face of Rosenfel 


A NOVEL. 


BY 


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THE FACE OF ROSEIEL 


CHAPTEK I 


THE PATIEKT 


FIXED and changeless expression! A single sen- 



\ timent in the dark eyes, turning restlessly from 
one serious face to the other! A single sentiment in the 
timid trembling of the pale lips; in the expression of 
the delicate nostrils; in the nervous contraction of the 
brows that accompany it! 

For a mind which betrays itself in a countenance 
such as this, all the possibilities of existence, all that 
remains of life and happiness, can be summed up in one 
terrible word — fear. Henceforth this was all that the 
infinite world of thought and all the endless pleasure of 
being could mean to this poor creature. In the midst 
of the sunshine, the free air, the song of the birds, the 
whisper of lovers, the voices of friendship, she must 
continue to live on, as unconscious of them all as if her 
life had been narrowed down to the darkest dungeon of 
an inquisition. 

To deprive a face that beams with intelligence and 
beauty of the one light that makes it priceless; to blot 
out in the twinkling of an eye that unmeasured universe 
that exists in the brain of an individual, and leave in its 
place a solitary candle like this glimmering in the 


6 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


night — what a measureless crime! And such a crime 
had been committed. Does it add anything to the 
depth of the infamy, or to the burden of the guilt, 
that the poor victim was but nineteen and had been 
struck down in the fullness of health and strength? 

The patient sat on the edge of the bed from which 
she had lately arisen, in an alcove chamber opening into 
a large apartment, furnished like a sitting-room. Two 
grave and interested physicians, one gray-haired and ad- 
vanced in years, the other of middle-age, were watching 
her. There was no evidence that either of these 
men comprehended anything of the unutterable pathos 
of the situation. Their problem was purely a physio- 
logical one. The moral aspect of the case concerned 
them only where they aided a diagnosis. The ceaseless, 
uneasy motion of the poor girFs hands, clasping and 
unclasping themselves in her lap, the pathetic cry, 
without an attempt at articulation, that she uttered from 
time to time — these were the matters that interested 
them. 

have observed a very curious thing, the elder 
physician was saying. It is possible, of course, that I 
may be mistaken, but if I am not, then this girl pos- 
sesses a curious power in a remarkable degree.'’^ 

The younger man repeated the phrase with no little 
wonder: A curious power ?^^ 

Yes, a very curious power, I should say, of what, 
for want of a better term, I will call optical retention. 
You know what I mean?^^ 

I mean the faculty of retaining a scene in the mind 
after the eyes are closed, or the scene removed. We all 
have it in varying degrees. You mention the writing 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL, 


7 


table in my office, and immediately an image, tolerably 
distinct, of the size, shape and general appearance of the 
table rises before my mental vision. I mean, simply, 
if this girl were familiar with the looks of that table 
and she could be made to understand what I am talking 
about, she would see the object in question so vividly 
that it would be to her almost the reality — perhaps, I 
might say, practically the reality. 

The younger physician regarded the speaker in silent 
wonder. 

You donT take my meaning 
^^Oh, perfectly! My term for it is visualization. 
What puzzles me is that you should see any evidences of 
it here. What has she done to show it?^^ 

any one thing so much as everything. I gen- 
eralize it from a careful observation of her movements, 

Do you call it a symptom 

No. That is — I donT know. It may be abnormal, 
or it may be natural to her in a state of health. I have 
studied several cases; one, a very young child, who 
could find his way unerringly about a familiar place 
blind-folded. His family called it instinct, but it was 
simply a phenomenal power of retaining the picture of 
the room in his mind, combined with an accurate idea 
of distance. Unseen by him, I disarranged the furni- 
ture and he lost his head at once.^^ 

Yes, but I didnT suppose an idiot could possess such 
a faculty. 

Nor I. But is this an idiot 
^^Hum! ha The younger physician was alto- 

gether too cautious to commit himself, but he fixed 
upon the pale face of the patient a look of doubt and 
uncertainty that was plain enough of itself. He shrank 


8 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 




as much as did his gray-haired colleague from the hu- 
miliating confession: ^‘1 don^t understand the case at 
all” 

The elder physician was certainly in no haste to pro- 
nounce a verdict. Called for the purpose of aiding his 
younger associate to arrive at a definite conclusion as to 
the nature of the mysterious malady under which the 
patient suffered, he had as yet refrained from expressing 
an opinion, and now he spoke in the most guarded and 
cautious manner: 

It seems to me, Lamar, that the problem in this 
case narrows itself down to a question as to whether the 
patient^s present condition is due to the blow she is 
known to have received upon the head or to the purely 
mental results of the terror caused by the accident.'’^ 

Surely, said the younger man,^^ you do not wish 
me to understand that you believe it even possible 
that such a condition should be the result of simple 
terror or pure mental action of any kind? It seems 
almost certain to me that there was some structural or 
functional disorder prior to the accident. 

Very possibly. I did not say to the contrary. Some 
of her symptoms almost seem to indicate a pressure on 
the brain; but a long experience in an accident hospital 
has made me wary of jumping to a conclusion when the 
symptoms are so vague and unpronounced. I have 
known such widely different and unexpected mental 
states to result from the fright incident to a loss of 
consciousness, under a pressure of excitement, that I am 
almost ready to attribute any abnormal mental state to 
the shock or the terror, pure and simple. Last year we 
had a man who had been thrown from a carriage while 
his horses were running away. The man completely 


THE FACE OF R08EHFEL. 


9 


recovered, but he always persisted in a denial that he had 
ever gone out to ride. The accident robbed him of his 
memory, not only of the time after he fainted, but of 
the time preceding that event by some hours. He never 
has been and undoubtedly never will be able to recall 
that time. Three or four years ago I was called to 
attend a lunatic who had been troubled with a suicidal 
mania. He had at last succeeded in eluding the vigil- 
ance of his keepers and had hung himself. We restored 
him, and he has been the sanest of sane men since. I 
have seen a person absolutely an idiot from fright. You 
ha\e doubtless yourself noted insanity or mania from 
that cause. In view of these facts I say it is well to 
think twice before dismissing that hypothesis in a case 
like this.""^ 

The younger man listened attentively, but he did not 
seem convinced. 

Doubtless terror is a powerful faction — sometimes,-’^ 
he said, ^‘^but nevertheless I do not see how it can be all 
in this case. The patient is not exactly an idiot. I am 
very sure that, in her way, she thinks. 

The elder physician made no reply, but he laughed 
quietly. 

I do not mean that she can follow a conscious train 
of thought, but that there is an unconscious undercur- 
rent, so to speak, which never rises into consciousness. 
It is the upper surface of the mind only that exhibits 
itself in intelligence, and in my opinion there is some- 
thing more than reflex action in the great undercurrent 
that throws up the little waves, the tops of which only 
we call reason. This mind is not dead, even though Tt 
appears to be.^^ 

The elder physician looked both puzzled and amused* 


10 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


am afraid, Lamar/'’ he said, ^‘'you read too much 
Herbert Spencer, and are inclined to ignore us plain 
fellows/^ 

The younger man shrugged his shoulders at this mild 
sarcasm, and he answered without the least show of sen- 
sitiveness: 

At any rate, you ould not object to trying an ex- 
periment with me?^^ 

Certainly not/^ 

^^Very well. Let us conceal ourselves. I believe 
that our presence irritates her.'’^ 

The younger man arose from the chair in which he 
had been sitting and went into the larger room. The 
gray-haired physician followed him. They retired into 
the farthest corner and concealed themselves from the 
patient^s view behind a curtained bed, where, by slightly 
disarranging the drapery, they could easily watch her. 
Either because their departure had startled her or be- 
cause the mysterious forces at work in her disorganized 
intellect happened to manifest themselves at that mo- 
ment, she had uttered as they moved that strange, faint, 
inarticulate cry, which w^as so terrible to the good people 
who took care of her. The two physicians simply noted 
it as a curious fact. 

After they had disappeared from the range of her vis- 
ion the girl sat for a long time without any apparent 
change, save that in lieu of scanning the faces of the 
physicians, her eyes looked with the same dreadful fear 
into the fire in the open grate. Over and over again, 
with a persistent monotony that of itself was enough to 
make the sympathetic observer shudder, this embodiment 
in motion of the unnatural and unvarying condition of 
the shattered mind, this alternate clasping and unclasping 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


11 


of the hands, went on. The white palms came to- 
gether; the fingers intertwined; the palms moved slowly 
across each other; the fingers lost their hold and wan- 
dered nervously, and then the dreary round began again, 
and so on, ceaselessly and always. 

Is she never still the elder physician asked. 

^^IN’ever wholly so. ^NTervous motion of some sort is 
necessary. othing but actual interference from with- 
out can stop it, even for an instant.’^ 

It happened then that an external interference unex- 
pectedly occurred to illustrate the practitioner's state- 
ment. A cat, which had been curled up by the fireside, 
crossed the fioor and sprang into the girPs lap. With a 
repetition of the peculiar cry, and a sudden intensifica- 
tion of the dominant expression in her face, the patient 
started to her feet. The cat jumped down and ran 
away. The girl gave no heed to his departure. Her 
gaze was fixed immovably on the spot where she had 
seen him, and she continued uninterruptedly for several 
minutes to move her hands as if driving back some pal- 
pable object which persisted in remaining in her lap. 

^^She sees the cat still whispered the elder physician. 

Just as I thought. The impression produced on the 
retina by an object that startles her is too vivid to leave 
her even after its departure. This is a more remarkable 
retention than I had deemed possible. But there is no 
evidence that she thinks at all.^^ 

Hot as we think. Ho.*^ 

Gradually the repulsing motion of the hands gave 
place to the old nervous clasping and unclasping. The 
time came when the poor creature seemed to forget the 
special terror caused by the cat in the general dread with 
which all things seemed to inspire her. But she still 
continued to stand. 




12 TEE FACE OF B08EFFEL. 

Think murmured the elder physician. ^^Why, 
she donT even know enough to sit down when she is 
tired."" 

In truth, at that moment the girl began to sway vio- 
lently, and had not the foremost physician gone promptly 
to her assistance, she would have fallen. 

^^Her limbs are too weak to stand so long,"" said the 
younger man. But don"t put her to bed yet. I want 
to try an experiment."" 

Of what nature?"" 

Simply to see what effect music will have. I have 
known downright idiots, who responded to scarce 
another provocation than the sight of food, to have their 
interest visibly aroused by the sound of a musical instru- 
ment. Miss Maxey will favor us with a few selections, 
I"ll speak to her."" 

He rapped at the door of an adjoining chamber and 
exchanges a few words with the person who responded. 
In a few minutes a pretty young lady with black eye- 
brows and a damask color in her cheeks had taken her 
seat at the piano. The two physicians had retired to 
their former position behind the bed curtains, and the 
patient, as before, sat on the edge of her bed. 

^^"What shall I play?"" the young lady asked. 

Something loud and energetic."" 

There was a rustling of leaves, and then the drastic 
opening chords of a Liszt rhapsody made the vases shiver 
on the mantel. The sounds startled the patient as a 
blow might have done. The dark eyes seemed to grow 
darker, the pale lips quivered more perceptibly with the 
utterance of that plaintive cry, the pitiful all that was 
left to her of voice and speech. But she seemed to 
realize the origin of her fright. Her glance went imme- 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


13 


diately in the direction of the piano and remained there, 
fascinated, as if she momentarily expected an unknown 
horror to rise up out of the cheerful red cover which 
adorned the case of the instrument. Never for an 
instant was the forlorn monotony of the moving hands 
interrupted. Nevertheless, the younger physician 
seemed satisfied. 

We\e got her attention. Now, let us change our 
humor. No more of that kind, please. Miss Maxey. 
Something quieter and more soothing. 

Miss Maxey chose a volume of Beethoven and began a 
favorite sonata. The clasping hands still moved; the 
dark eyes still watched for the coming of the unknown 
horror, but there was a change in the indescribable de- 
tails that went to make up the dominant expression of 
the patient^s face — slight, gradual, scarcely perceptible 
except to practised eyes expecting it — but still a change. 

The younger man whispered energetically: She^s 
listening 

Slowly, so slowly that it seemed an age to those who 
hoped to see the end, the clinging fingers forgot to 
separate themselves and take up new positions; the 
heretofore incessant motion of the nervous hands became 
less and less; ceased altogether; the palms rested against 
each other, quite still. 

The younger physician^s growing excitement could re- 
strain itself no longer. 

^^Seel^^he cried, ^^she sits quite motionless! It is 
the first time in days. And there is another means 
which we have not yet tried. WonT you sing to us. 
Miss Maxey? Sing us the most tender and pathetic 
thing you know.^^ 

The sound of the piano stopped abruptly. But the 


14 


THE FACE OJP R08ENFEL. 


patient did not change her attitude. In all the many 
minutes, while Miss Maxey was searching for the song, 
she sat, seemingly enthralled, as if she listened still. 
The men of science felt themselves in the presence of 
something of which their learning told them nothing. 
Graduall}^ as the music went on, she had inclined her 
head a little to one side in the poise of a listener. So 
she still remained, now that the instrument was mute. It 
was hardly the posture of expectancy. No, it seemed 
more as though the feeble responses of the mysterious 
faculty that could rise up in a mind quite blank at the 
sound of a tender melody had not ceased to vibrate — as 
if the mournful cadences were still echoing through the 
vacant chambers whence thought had flown. There was 
fear in the dark eyes still, but it no longer seemed the 
sum and substance of her life. In the very midst of 
her abstraction a sound escaped her lips that caused the 
listeners to start. 

That was a sigh!^^ the younger man whispered. 

^^Ahr^ murmured his colleague, ^^so I thought. 
There may be something in your medicine, after all.''^ 

Miss Maxey had now made her selection. It was 
Schubert^s wonderful Ave Maria, a song that has 
more depth and power of tenderness in it than the soul 
which feels it can express. Miss Maxey had a sweet 
voice, and she sang as though the music had a meaning. 

Suddenly both physicians uttered a cry and sprung 
forward. 

With a changing face and trembling limbs, and reach- 
ing outward with her hands, like one groping in the 
dark, the patient had arisen, had essayed even to walk. 
The attempt was far beyond her strength. She faltered, 
swayed, uttered the plaintive cry and fell like lead into 
the arms of one of the men. She had fainted. 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, 


15 


What a very curious caseT^ thought the gray-haired 
physician, as he took his departure. It is unlike any- 
thing in my experience. 

All the way through the city streets which led to the 
hospital, he walked with his head bent down and his 
brow contracted. He was dissatisfied and undecided. 

He had taken leave of the younger man at the door. 
The practitioner still lingered to advise Miss Maxey. 

It will not do to repeat our experiment of this after- 
noon too soon again. It would be running too great a 
risk. It might result in good, but it would be some- 
thing more likely to result in harm. The medicine is 
strong, but I have not supreme confidence in it. Be 
sure she is not disturbed to-night. 

^^Good advice. Doctor Lamar! Excellent advice! And 
you have the will of a determined woman to back you; 
but there is something more potent even than this, and 
it may not be possible, with the best of care, to do your 
bidding. 

The young doctor turned from the bedside to a con- 
templation of the serious face beside him. It was natu- 
ral that his mind should wander from the sick girl to 
other affairs. 

I have not seen your brother to-day. Miss Maxey. 
Where is he?^^ 

Miss Maxey informed him. 

Before her answer can be intelligibly recorded it is 
necessary to go back a little. 


16 


THE FAUE OF BOSEJSTFEL. 


CHAPTEE II. 

A HALT IK THE ROAD. 

OU AEE an artist/^ said the man on the front 



i seat of the sleigh, turning about that he might 
talk more easily with the young man who sat beside the 
pretty girl on the rear seat. You are an artist. What 
do you think of the workmanship of this?^^ 

He had taken from an inner pocket a small leather 
case, which he now passed to his companion. When the 
young man had brought to light the contents, he held in 
his hand a medallion, set in a jeweled frame — a medal- 
lion upon the convex surface of which was graven the 
attractive features of a handsome woman. The work 
was so delicate, the setting so rich, the effect of the 
whole so exquisite that the artist involuntarily uttered a 
cry of pleasure. 

^^Why, this is really admirable, Lamar! Who is it? 
Where did you get it?^^ 

The man on the front seat answered in a voice as cold 
and unemotional as a voice could well be: 

Inasmuch as this is the woman whom I am to marry, 
I thought a tolerably fair counterfeit of her face would 
be interesting to my friends. 

The pretty girl, who had been admiring the dainty 
valuable, became, as he spoke, somewhat pale. 

she said in a constrained, conventional way; 
•^this is Mrs. Forsythe?’^ 

^^Mrs. Forsythe assented the man on the front 
seat. 


THE FACE OF ROSEHFEL, 


17 


^ She is very pretty/^ said the girl in the same tone. 

As she spoke she put the medallion quickly into the 
hand of the young man who sat beside her and averted 
her head. 

Another choice exclaimed the man on the front 
seat in a brisker tone, glancing at a fork in the white 
road which the fleet horses were rapidly approaching. 

Shall we take the inland road direct or go by the 
round-about sea-road? We shall see more life by the 
flrst way, but we shall have better sleighing and plenty 
of cold wind by the second. Which shall it be?^^ 

Which shall it be, Ellen ?^^ repeated the young man 
to the pretty girl. 

It makes no difference to me/^ 

Then let us have the sea-road and the sleighing. 
We are in no hurry, and a little cold wonT hurt us.'"’ 
Jacta est alea. The sea-road it shall be.'^^ 

The sleighing-party was now within eight miles of the 
city, the location of which was marked by a vague glow 
in the wintry sky. Gradually the laughter had ceased 
and words had become infrequent. The bells on the 
horses jingled merrily as ever, and the rapid hoof- 
beats on the hard crust came to the ear through the 
biting air in the sam.e inspiriting pulsations; but for all 
that it was cold riding after sundown along the sea-road, 
with the bitter breath from the darkening ocean full in 
the face. 

Every moment the fences and hedge-rows were becom- 
ing more indistinct, and the dreary white landscape be- 
tween the observers and the fading streak in the horizon, 
where the sun had lately been, was rapidly losing all sig- 
niflcance or intelligibility as a prospect. Truly, Dr. 
Eustace Lamar had forgotten the flight of time in. hia 


18 


THE FACE OF ROSEJSTFEL. 


enjoyment of tlie exhilarating sport, or he had sadly 
miscalculated the distance. Not that there was any- 
thing to be dreaded, in the ordinary course of events, 
of a ride in the pale starlight, or under the mellow rays 
of the moon. The road was a good one, and very soon 
it would be well lighted. And if the three pleasure- 
seekers were a trifle cold they could console themselves 
with the comforting reflection that there was a cheerful 
fire waiting for them in the agreeable sitting-room of 
the uppermost flat at No. 20 Ballavoine Place. It W’as 
not an elaborate affair, this abode of Julian Maxey, 
the artist, but it was a pleasant, interesting and certainly 
on a cold night like this a very comfortable and desir- 
able place in which to be. 

Perhaps it was not owing altogether to the cold that 
an unwonted silence had fallen upon the occupants of 
the sleigh. Pretty Ellen Maxey, the artisPs sister, who 
sat beside her brother on the rear seat, had dealt a death 
blow to the conversation when she ceased to take part in 
it. But she was not asleep, and her face, protected 
from view by abundant wraps and the growing obscurity, 
had gradually settled into an expression, at once wistful, 
pathetic and resigned. 

Maxey, whose power of observation was not wholly a 
matter of eyesight, had become annoyed and solicitous, 
but he took pains not to betray this fact. 

As for philosophic, middle-aged, handsome Doctor 
Lamar, the prime cause of the whole trouble, he was 
supremely unconscious of any unhappiness on the part 
of his friends. He sat bolt upright, all by himself on 
the front seat, his hands busy with the reins and his at- 
tention apparently completely absorbed in scanning the 
road as far as he could see it in front of his swiftly moving 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


19 


team. The truth is that Doctor Lamar had blunder- 
ingly and unwittingly touched upon a topic exceedingly 
disagreeable to his friends behind him when he men- 
tioned his approaching marriage with the wealthy widow 
Forsythe. 

If Doctor Lamar had only known how fine and hand- 
some he appeared in his pretty neighbors eyes, it would 
have astonished him a great deal, and he would have 
been henceforth very much more discreet in his re- 
marks. If pretty Ellen Maxey had imagined how well 
her keen and penetrating brother had guessed her 
secret, undoubtedly she would have dissimulated a great 
deal of glee and merriment in a despairing endeavor to 
have thrown him oif the scent. For the heart beats 
proudly in the breast of a girl like her, and this was 
such a secret as she would wish might die with her. 

They were all young. The doctor was the eldest and 
he had barely reached forty. He was a brilliant young 
man who had made something of a name in the medical 
world by a recent remarkable publication, and whose 
practice was already established on a firm basis. 

Julian Maxey was twenty-eight. He had painted 
several hundred very unsuccessful pictures; their merit, 
however, was plainly recognized by his friends, by reason 
of which accomplishment he was called an artist. He 
was enabled to keep up this non-lucrative pursuit and to 
satisfy the craving in his soul for counterfeiting the 
beautiful, by a comfortable annuity which he had inher- 
ited from his grandmother. 

Ellen Maxey was twenty-four. Since the death of her 
parents she had held the proud, though exacting position 
of her brother's housekeeper, than which there was only 
one other place in the world she would have been bettor 
satisfied to occupy. 


20 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, 


On went the spirited horses, while the merry bells 
jingled and the steam spouted rythmically in four 
evanescent streams from their nostrils, and the footfalls 
beat time on the hard crust. The limitless black shadow 
settled down slowly over the sea and the land. There 
was a growing flush in the east which might herald a 
coming moon, and a fading glow in the west which be- 
tokened a departed sun; but these were but poor torches 
for a wayfarer groping in the dark, and the stars over- 
head, obscured by a pale mist, were puny candles against 
the obscuration of the deepening gloom. 

On went the mettled span toward the faint light in the 
heavens made by the distant city, held up to their steady 
gait by a tight rein in the doctor^s guiding hand and en- 
couraged by an occasional stimulating cry. The ocean, 
stretching out from the base of the cliff into the dark- 
ness ujDon the right, grew more inky from moment to 
moment, and the fading white landscape upon the left 
became exceedingly sketchy and incomplete. 

Still the four spouting clouds of steam, and still the 
merry jingling of bells upon the frosty air! 

All at once there is a break in the rythm of the hoof- 
beats. From a steady, onward, arrow-like flight, the 
sleigh suddenly moves laterally and almost stops with 
terrific abruptness, narrowly escapes overturning, trem- 
bles, jerks, snaps in every joint, and moves ahead again. 

^^Hi! Avhoa, there! AVhat the deuce 

Doctor Lamar was on his feet, and his strong arms 
were reining in the frightened horses. In another min- 
ute he was out in the snow, running beside them, cling- 
ing to the bridle. A plunge, a snort, a shiver, a great 
jingling of the bells, and the sleigh had come to a stand- 
still. 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEE 


21 


Whoa, Polly! Gently, Dolly said the doctor, per- 
suasively stroking the noses of the trembling and greatly 
frightened animals, while his two companions who had 
jumped into a snow bank struggled out into the road 
and began to put themselves to rights. 

^^E'ow, what the deuce do you suppose made those 
horses shy so?^^ 

There is something back there on the road, I am 
very positive, said Maxey, 

And I — I thought I saw somebody jump over the 
fence and run across the field, added his sister. 

What you saw on the road were the old settees on 
the edge of the cliff, probably, said Doctor Lamar. 

You know the Somerset summer hotel is just back of 
us here, and in warm weather there is a row of seats 
just above the bath houses by the roadside. I noticed 
what I took to be the gangway leading down to the 
beach just before the horses jumped. 

^^ISTo, no. What I saw was in the middle of the 
road,^^ insisted the artist. But iPs only a minute^s 
work to find out.^^ He turned back. 

The doctor ejaculated Pshaw! What does it matter? 
WeTe wasting time?’^ 

I am suretheiVs something wrong exclaimed 
Miss Maxey. 

^‘'Wrong!'’^ echoed the physician. ^^What an idea! 
You surprise me. Miss Maxey. I didnT know you were 
so easily alarmed.'’^ 

^‘1 was right, called the voice of Maxey, a little 
tremulously. See this.'’^ 

They, dimly saw him standing in the road outlined 
against the sky, holding up a shapeless something to 
their view. 


22 


TEE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


^^What is itr 

‘‘A woman^s shawl/^ 

Miss Maxey cried out in alarm: must go back 

at once. I know something is wrong. I felt it before 
we reached it.^^ 

Absurd!"^ exclaimed the doctor. 

But Miss Maxey did not wait to hear the comment. 
She had already rejoined her brother. The doctor saw 
them apparently kneeling in the snow, as though examin- 
ing the surface. Then they separated. One went 
toward the fence which divided the road from the 
adjoining field, the other in the direction of the low 
wall which disjoined it from the narrow strip of ground 
between it and the edge of the cliff. 

Doctor Lamar! Doctor Lamar 

There was no mistaii.ing the tenor of this cry or its 
imperative nature. For the first time the physician felt 
a vague sensation of dread. He hastily made the horses 
fast to the fence and went back up the road. He saw 
that both figures had come together now on the other 
side of the wall near the edge of the bluff. He came up 
with quick steps. 

WhaFs the matter? What is it?^^ 

Listen r 

The waves washed lonesomely on the rocks below. 
The night wind sighed in its dismal rounds. The breath 
of the listeners came quickly and audibly. There were 
no other sounds. 

I hear nothing, said the physician, but the wash 
of the sea.^^ 

Hist ! WhaFs that 

A faint cry, rising on the wind, mysterious, inde- 
scribable! 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL, 


23 ' 


child cried the doctor, ^^or a dog!^^ 

Whatever it be, it has fallen over the cliff, said 
Maxey. 

His sister shuddered, but her voice was very calm. 
^^You forget the footsteps and the man I saw jump 
over the fence and run away. The snow is trodden and 
trampled all about us. There has been a struggle here 
where we are standing. I am afraid for what you will 
find down there. Stay with me, Julian, and let the 
doctor go down.^^ 

The doctor went down, and in a little while he came 
back again. 

There is something caught on a point of rock be- 
tween here and the beach, he said hurriedly. I could, 
by looking up, just see it between me and the sky — 
something which flutters in the wind. Maxey, you had 
better take Miss Ellen back to the sleigh. We need a 
rope and a lantern at once. I will run to the house we 
just passed. I shall return immediately.'’^ 

No doubt of that, if he maintained the pace at which 
he set off. 

Miss Maxey declined to go back to the sleigh. 

I am not a coward she said. Something is suf- 
fering. Until it can be relieved my duty is here. Hark, 
Julian! I hear it again. 

Yes; again and again and again, ere the good doctor 
reappeared. It rose and fell like the pulsations on the 
beach below as the wind carried it, sometimes dying 
away into silence, sometimes welling up into loudness — 
a strange, forlorn sound to be listening to in a lonely 
place after dark. There was something unfamiliar — 
almost unearthly — about it that made its hearers shud- 
der. It might be the voice of agony, but it made an 


24 


THE FACE OF BOSEJSTFEL. 


impression like nothing one could name. It did not 
seem to be a human cry. It did not seem like the utter- 
ance of a dumb animal — a sound that was neither a 
moan of pain nor a cry of supplication, but akin to 
both. 

Miss Maxey hid her face in her brother's breast and 
tried to shut it out. 

Will the doctor never come?^^ 

A soft ray of light shot out from the midst of the 
flush in the east and sent a glimmering path- way down 
across the sea. They would have light enough anon. 
The moon was rising. Then came the sound of voices 
and footsteps hurrying up the road, and here were Doc- 
tor Lamar and two strangers with ropes and lanterns. 

Miss Maxey stepped back several paces from the little 
knot of men who now gathered upon the edge of the 
bluff. She saw them holding a consultation and making 
calculations. One of them laid down near the treacher- 
ous, ice-clad edge of the bluff flat on his face, and 
crawled to the very verge, so that he might look over. A 
lantern on the end of a rope was then let down. After 
a few minutes it was drawn up. The man arose. An- 
other, the smallest of the group, now submitted himself 
to be made securely fast to the end of the line, and was 
lowered over the edge. Two of the men at the rope 
stood on the other side of the wall, with their feet braced 
against it. The third stood as near the edge of the cliff 
as he dared and eased the line over the rocks. He lis- 
tened for the voice of the man at the end of the rope and 
repeated his instructions to the men on the other side of 
the wall. 

Lower! Lower! A little more! Steady! Hold 
-fast! How, pull] Steady! Pull! Once more! How, 
again! StopT^ 


TEE FACE OF R08ENFEL, 


25 


Breathless, excited. Miss Maxey started forward. The 
man at the verge was already upon his breast, carefully 
reaching down to steady the delicate burden. Again 
that strange, weird cry, louder and near at hand, a flut- 
ter of garments tossed by the wind, a flnal pull upon the 
rope, a gasp and a struggle, and a motionless object W'as 
laid down in the trampled snow. Everybody was bend- 
ing over it. Miss Maxey among the first. The lanterns 
were held close down. 

Softly she put hack the straying hair from the face, 
that she might look upon it, and she saw the features of 
a young woman, not so old as she by several years, and 
dark and beautiful like herself. The face was very pale 
and it was slightly scratched and bruised, but there was 
no blood upon it. There was something strained and 
unnatural in its appearance, but through all the harsh- 
ness of the expression, all the ghastliness and pallor, the 
delicate charm of a classic outline, the regularity of 
dainty features, asserted their presence still. 

Miss Maxey saw all this with an added pang at her 
sympathetic heart. Somehow the very human thought 
that these things made the pity of it the greater, ob- 
truded itself even into Miss Maxey’s sensible reflections. 
She sat gazing into the unconscious countenance alone, 
for the others had left her. The attention of all the 
men were taken in the task of drawing up him who had 
gone down to the rescue and who had been left on the 
point of rock beneath. 

The long lashes rested on the white cheeks of the 
motionless form in Miss Maxey^s lap, hut the girl seemed 
to he in a stupor rather than a faint. Perhaps she was 
dying with the cold. Sympathetic Miss Maxey pressed 
the unconscious head against the fur lining of her cloak 


26 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


and sought to chafe the hands. She found them envel- 
oped in thick gloves, and then she noticed that the un- 
fortunate creature was well and warmly clad. Her 
clothing was of a modest and unpretentious character, 
but at the same time it did not indicate poverty. 

What a terrible thing exclaimed Miss Maxey in a 
burst of sympathy. 

As she spoke the long lashes lifted. The dark eyes 
looked for an instant full into her own, and then there 
came into the face a vague expression, a something, 
rather, that had not enough of intelligence in it to be 
called an expression — as if fear had laid the mold of his 
unsightly features against hers and stamped his image 
there forever. And from the tremulous lips came forth 
that strange, low utterance that was neither a moan nor 
a plea, not a human sound exactly, nor suggestive wholly 
of a dumb animal in distress. 

Poor child It was the voice of Doctor Lamar who 
was bending over Miss Maxe^^^s shoulder. ^^What a 
misfortune! This is a very serious matter — a very seri- 
ous matter, indeed 


THE FACE OF EOSEHFEL. 


27 


CHAPTEE IIL 

THE TOTAL ECLIPSE. 

B ALLAVGi'^/E PLACE is a very quiet street at all 
times. On a still day footsteps awake echoes 
there. Not because it is far from the busy center of the 
city, for it leads directly out of an important avenue 
through which there is much passing, but because it is 
not a thoroughfare. On two sides substantial brick 
houses present an uninterrupted front to the street. On 
the third side a high picketed fence prevents it from 
leading over a solid pile of masonry, rising only to its 
level and known as a sea-wall, directly into the river, 
Ballavoine Place and all the streets in this vicinity oc- 
cupy what is termed ^^made land,^^ for the time was not 
long ago when the tide from the neighboring harbor 
flowed twice a day over the salt marshes twenty feet be- 
low the present paved and solid surface. Therefore it 
is that the buildings are all new and stately, and that 
only well-to-do people live here. No. 20 is the last 
house on the street next the river. It is so near it, in- 
deed, that only a narrow court-yard intervenes between 
the sea-wall and its foundation stones. This house is 
what is popularly termed an apartment house that is 
to say, it is let out in suits, floor by floor, to different 
families. 

In December, 1884, the name on the books of the 
lessee of this house against suit No. 5, which com- 
prised the rooms in the upper story, was Julian Maxey. 


2S 


THE FACE OF B08EHFEL. 


In that month of that year, and a week after the episode 
on the cliff-road, the artist was talking with his friend, 
the physician, in the large, square chamber, the last in 
his series, which he was accustomed to call his sitting- 
room. The great easy chairs and the comfortable sofa 
in this apartment seemed to warrant the appellation. 
The piano, the numerous rows of well-filled book- 
shelves and a sideboard with a decanter on it, somewhat 
widened the range of possibilities, however, and the 
presence of a bed, shut in with pretty lace curtains, 
made the term entirely inadequate to the subject. It 
was a room, in fact, in which a stranger might have 
spent days and nights of profit and amusement, without 
the necessity of going out very frequently for anything 
pertaining to luxuries or necessities, bodily or mentally. 
Indian clubs and dumb-bells on a shelf in a corner 
afforded an opportunity for indoor exercise; the sideboard 
was a treasury of refreshment; there was reading enough 
for a yearns study. The walls were covered with pic- 
tures and a half-painted canvas on an easel near a win- 
dow showed another in the process of manufacture. 
There was a cheerful fire in an open grate. On the 
center-table was a sewing-basket, some fancy work, sev- 
eral uncut magazines and papers, a cigar-case and a 
reading lamp. From any point in the room the occu- 
pant could command a view of the broad river and of 
the fields and spires on the farther shore. At this time 
of year the fields and hills were white and the river was 
full of ice. 

The doctor had just come out of a windowless 
alcove-chamber, which might be separated from the 
main apartment by curtains, now prettily looped back. 
In the obscurity beyond could be seen a bed and the 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL, 


29 


face of a young woman — a pale face with large, dark 
eyes, which roved about incessantly, as if in quest of a 
horror that never came. 

^^How does she seem to-day Julian Maxey ques- 
tioned in a -tone of deep anxiety. 

Just as she has been since we found her. Just as 
she seems likely to be for the rest of her days — in a 
state of total eclipse.'’^ There was no air of jocularity 
about Doctor Lamarrs manner. He was very much dis- 
satisfied with the situation, although his concern was of 
a different nature from. Maxey ^s. A medical problem 
that baffled him always aroused in him a grim antagon- 
ism that was far from humorous. 

You donT mean to tell me you are beginning to look 
upon this as a hopeless case!^^ Maxey exclaimed, in con- 
sternation. Whenever Maxey got excited his hair 
promptly exhibited a tendency to assume an erect atti- 
tude and his necktie inevitably became awry. Lamar 
noted that he was now somewhat excited. 

mean to tell you, as I have told you, that even 
partial recovery is very improbable.*'^ 

^^But you will not say impossible?^*' 

They are synonymous terms with most of us. For 
my part, lam cautious. There is the one chance Jn a 
million that always exists. ’^ 

Miss Maxey had come into the room in time to hear 
this disheartening reply. She spoke up with almost 
hysterical emphasis: 

And that one chance will save her. I believe too 
much in the justice of Heaven to think for a moment 
that she will lie here and die with closed lips. I donT, 
I canT, believe it. As sure as there is a God, or any 
Proyidence in human events, the time will come when 


30 


TEE FACE OF ROSENFEL 


that poor girl will speak and denounce the inhuman 
monster who pushed her from the road!^^ 

^^You believe in poetic justice. Miss Maxey. Un- 
fortunately for me, I am a practical physician and obtain 
my idea of human events from life and not from novels. 
The time may come, it is true; but to say that it loill is 
to show a depth of confidence in my skill and ability 
which I hardly possess myself. This girl certainly can- 
not recover without medical aid, and it is utterly beyond 
my comprehension — for you may as well know the truth 
at once — how medical aid can reach her. That is how 
the matter stands at present. 

But the present is not the future, cried Miss Maxey, 
with a warm glow in her cheeks — perhaps, in spite of 
all her enthusiasm, she felt it was Lamar she spoke to. 

Nothing can make me believe that she will die like 
this. God would not permit such a crime to go unpun- 
ishe^l.-'^ 

Without discussing that, my dear Miss Maxey, re- 
plied the physician, smiling, need hardly remind 
you that there are other and much more obvious ways 
of accomplishing that end than by working a miracle in 
this poor girhs brain. And, by the way, Maxey, how 
does your part of the case stand 

Sit down,^^ said Maxey. Do. You can spare a 
minute, I know, and, of course, you must be interested. 
We all are. True, I havenT much to tell you. There 
have been half a dozen reporters here daily, and more or 
less detectives and police officers, but I rather think 
their interest is dying out now rapidly. 

Shameful!"^ ejaculated Miss Maxey. Just because 
of a few obstacles 

Obstacles echoed her brother. should say 


4 ? 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 31 

they were obstacles! Why, there isn^t a shadow of light 
in any direction. Let me state the case now from a 
judicial standpoint. 

Doctor Lamar had taken a chair by the window, where 
he seemed to be devoting his exclusive attention to the 
ice blocks drifting down the river. Miss Maxey had not 
seated herself exactly, but she had assumed an upright 
position on the sofa. She tvas eager, earnest, and wholly 
absorbed in the subject of conversation. 

An exceedingly sensitive and emotional creature waa 
this Miss Maxey, and in a matter such as this, where her 
whole nature was aroused, she was a powerful friend 
and a most dangerous adversary. It was entirely at her 
solicitation that the poor sufferer in the alcove chamber 
had been brought to the house. Miss Maxey listened 
to what her brother had to say with quick breath and 
shining eyes. Ah! if Doctor Lamar had had the soul 
of an artist he would have found something more inspir- 
ing to look at than the icy river. 

These are the facts, continued Maxey, tracing them 
all out on the top of the center-table with a paper-cutter 
as he talked. ^^It is now the sixteenth of December. 
On the ninth was the first sleighing of the year. The 
evening of that day a belated sleighing party, just after 
nightfall, discovered a woman^s shawl in the middle of 
a lonely road at a point where it runs along the borders 
of a rocky bluff. Investigation follows, and eventually 
results in the rescue of a young woman who was caught 
by the clothing upon a point of rock half-way between 
the top and bottom of an almost vertical section of the 
bluff. This young woman is so badly injured internally 
that she is incapable of giving the least clew, either to 
her identity or to the strange position in which she was 


32 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEH 


found. Nothing remains hut to make a careful examin- 
ation into the circumstantial evidence in the case. This 
turns out to be exceedingly meager, hut such as it is, it 
all points- one way. One of the pockets of the girTs 
clothes is found turned inside out, and the rest are 
empty. She has no ring upon her fingers; nor jewels 
in her ears, although the ears are pierced. The dress of 
the unknown indicates that she belongs to the middle 
class, but the refinement and delicacy of her face and 
hands, which are singularly white and free from the 
traces of hard work, are even stronger evidences that she 
is not an ordinary shop girl, to say the least. This 
turning of the pocket and utter absence of rings or 
ornaments, lead naturally to the conclusion that she has 
been robbed and thrown from the road. In substantia- 
tion of this, the snow is trampled just above the place 
where she was found, and smooth all along the roadside. 
One of the sleighing party is positive that she saw a man 
leap over a fence and run across the field on the other 
side of the way. A close scrutiny finds footsteps lead- 
ing into the field at the point indicated. They are fol- 
lowed, and after a short detour lead around in the direc- 
tion of the city into the road again, where they are lost 
irretrievably. In the absence of all other evidence we 
must suppose, then, that the girl was set upon and 
robbed by a person unknown and thrown over the bank 
to get rid of her. Let us suppose the police take this 
for granted at the outset. 

^^It is all they are good for — taking things for 
granted r commented Miss Maxey. ^^I canT see that 
they ever discover anything. 

Very well. So far it is all plain and natural. But 
where did the victim come from, and how came she upon 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 


33 


the cliff road alone at that time? At this point we find 
ourselves utterly unable to form any plausible theory. 
There is not a single clew to her identity — not a mark 
on the underclothing, not even an initial on the hand- 
kerchief. Suppose we are the police, under the circum- 
stances, what can we do? N^othing in the world except 
what they did do — photograph the girl and send her 
description, not omitting the smallest detail of clothing 
which she wore, and including the curious fact that one 
of the toes of her left foot is missing, broadcast over the 
community. The result is that the first day she is 
brought here the stairs are worn out with the footsteps 
of people whose only possible interest is that of curiosity, 
who come to see the victim under the pretext of attempt- 
ing to identify her. 

And who stare and gawk about w’ith open mouths 
until they have fairly to be pushed out of the room,^^ 
added Miss Maxey; 

In short, continued the artist, we are in danger 
of being turned into a museum for the exclusive patron- 
age of all the idlers and dead-beats in the city. This 
clearly will not do, and we must get our medical adviser to 
declare a public inspection irritating and dangerous to 
the patient.-’^ 

believe it did annoy her,^^ said Doctor Lamar. 

At any rate it did her no good.”^^ 

And this is the strangest part of the mystery to my 
mind,^^ continued Maxey. ^^That with all these pre- 
cautions, with the newspapers printing, people talking, 
and pictures and descriptions so available, nobody ap- 
pears to claim her in all this time. It is as if she dropped 
down upon that cliff road from another planet. Wher- 
ever she has been people must have seen her; her friends 
must miss her. Then, why are they silent ?^^ 


34 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL, 


Doctor Lamar was still watching the ice-blocks. Some- 
thing suggested by Maxey^s last words made him frown. 
He did not turn his head to remark: 

^^You exaggerate, Julian. Because this case seems 
all important to you and your sister, and — to me, per- 
haps; and because a few policemen and reporters call, 
and the rabble who read the newspapers flock to your 
door when the opportunity is given them, you immedi- 
ately think that the whole world has become excited over 
this curious affair. All, let me tell you, is a large word, 
and everybody something which you donk imagine. How 
many thousand people in this very city to-day never read 
a newspaper, and are too much occupied in their own 
struggle for existence to mind much about other peoples^! 
In spite of all that has been said and written, Ifll war- 
rant you not more than half of the total population of 
this metropolis has ever heard of the mystery of the 
beach road.^^ 

Ellen sighed. 

^^The doctor is right, Julian.^^ 

Perhaps. I am not disputing him. It is but a week 
yet and there are peculiar circumstances, I can 
understand perfectly possible, under which a person 
might suffer such an accident as this poor creature has 
and not be missed so soon. Suppose, for instance, I 
were to announce to you that I was going away for a 
week or two and were to fall down at the end of the 

street and break my neck 

I should know all about it in two hours, inter- 
rupted his sister, No, Julian, no, you have spoken 
about the friends, but you have not thought of the 
enemies. The blind in this case are wilfully blind, 
Julian, depend upon it, wilfully blind. 


THE FACE OF R08EHFEH 


35 


Pshaw !’^ said Maxey. That is going too far alto- 
gether. Better invent some other theory. Suicide is 
more probable. 

EidiculousT^ was his sister^s comment. 

^^Very well; suppose this. Suppose that she has 
always been an idiot just as we see her now, that her 
friends had taken care of her, but that she had become 
a burden upon them; that in a moment of neglect she 
escaped and wandered over the edge of the bluff; that 
they knew it when it was too late but forbore to inter- 
fere after the mischief was done, well knowing that it 
would make no difference to her and not wishing to be 
bothered longer with her support. What different aspect 
would the case present than it does now?^^ 

A cruel, heartless theory, Julian. And you ought 
to be keener than that, too. I am ashamed of you! 
What of the pocket turned inside out, the trampled 
snow and the man who ran away?^^ 

^^Appearances are often deceptive. Thieves are not 
the only people who turn pockets inside out. Men run, 
or walk, for other causes than a guilty conscience. Be- 
sides, the fact that she was an idiot, not being known to 
the thief, would not prevent his waylaying her in a 
lonely place. 

You donT believe what you say, Julian. This girTs 
outer garments fitted her. They were made for her. 
Idiots are not provided with street costumes. 

This was a clincher. Maxey, worsted as usual in an 
encounter with his sister, .made an irrelevant reply, and 
turned his attention with momentary irritation to 
Doctor Lamar. 

Do yoiv think, too, that this girl had no friends 
The same suggestion which had before caused the 


36 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 


philosophic physician to wrinkle his brows again dis- 
turbed him in a similar manner. .He suddenly bent a 
meaning look upon the artist, as he made the deliberate 
reply: 

For good reasons. I have more than once suspected 
it.^^ 

Maxey started. He became at once imbued with the 
suspicion which troubled Lamar. He grew excited at 
once. 

That is something I had not thought of. It would 
explain everything.-’^ 

Possibly/^ said the doctor, resuming his view of the 
river. 

And it would prove that I was something too hasty 
in allowing her to be brought here, rather than to the 
hospital. If I really believed it, I would 

JulianP^ Miss Maxey rose to her feet with a flush 
in her face and a dangerous light in her eyes. She went 
on with increasing rapidity of utterance and unsteadiness 
of tones. The words came so fast they seemed almost 
to choke her. 

^"■What you are saying is heartless, cruel, unmanly! 
You made me a promise, Julian Maxey. Do you think 
I have forgotten it? Do you think I will allow this 
helpless, innocent creature of whom one of these days 
you would blush to speak with the slightest disrespect — 
do you think I would allow her to go, after what has 
been, believing, as I flrmly do, that a hospital would be 
the death of her. Oh, it does seem as if all the world 
were determined to turn the back on this poor, defense- 
less girl! I consider the refusal of those Somerset peo- 
ple to keep her in their house any longer when they 
knew it would be dangerous to move her, utterly bar- 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


37 


barons. It was brutal to think of sending her into a 
great, cold hospital where everybody is sick and dying, 
and the doctors experimenting with the patients. Yes, 
Doctor Lamar, I^m very sure of it. I"ve been told so 
on excellent authority; and if it hadn^t been for me she^d 
have gone there, too, and now, now, after all you^’e 
said, Julian Maxey, for you to begin and talk about hos- 
pitals, and — and oh! it^s too heartless! and I think you 
ought to be ashamed of yourselves, both of you, to sit 

here and Well, do what you will! Do your very 

worst ! I shall not lift a finger to stop you ! I shall 
not say one word in remonstrance V’ 

Just a trifle excited and hysterical, Ellen Maxey, but 
you look exceedingly well with the tears sparkling on 
your long, dark lashes, and your cheeks aglow. Doctor 
Lamar turned with considerable surprise from his sur- 
vey of the river, but she was gone before he had an op- 
portunity to admire her. 

The deuce !'^ ejaculated Maxey, with a faint sigh at 
the thought of his own subjugation. Well, she will 
have to stay; thaVs all.-’^ 

Think so^ 

Oh, there^s no doubt at all about it. When Ellen 
begins to act like Lady Macbeth I know what^s coming. 
But she’s a good sister, Eustace,’’ added the artist, feel- 
ingly, and the best girl that ever lived. And then, I 
dare say, very probably she’s quite right — quite right, 
indeed.” 

She causes you, however, to take a gre^ responsi- 
bility,” said Doctor Lamar, gravely, 
don’t understand you.” 

But you will before very long. Eor, mark my 
word, Maxey, the patient will make you trouble,^' 


38 


THE FACE OF BOmNFEL. 




Maxey started. 

What do you mean?'’^ 

I mean/’ said the physician, simply that. You 
don^t imagine she will lie there always as now? You 
must know that she has a body that has no disease as 
Avell as a brain that has. Suppose she should be able to 
sit up and to go about 

Well, what then?^^ 

What then? Well, if you don^t watch her she will 
be in the fire or lying at the foot of the stairs with her 
neck broken. 

Maxey arose nervously and went to the sideboard, as 
he was too likely to do when his mind was troubled. He 
had raised his glass to his lips when that faint, weird cry 
that was not a moan of pain nor a plea for mercy, but 
akin to both, suddenly escaped the lips of the patient. 
Maxey set his glass down with a force that spilled the 
contents: 

There! Why will she do that? Anything but that! 
It will give me the horrors! How she startled me!^^ 

He crossed the room and put a hand that was by no 
means steady on his friend^s shoulder, while his troubled 
eyes searched the physician^s face. 

Lamar, he said, ^^what is the matter with her? I 
donT mean what is the long Latin term for her disorder; 
I mean, in good, round, English words, frankly and 
plainly, what is the matter with her?^^ 

Frankly and plainly, responded Lamar, without 
the least hesitation, cannot tell you." 

You donT know?" 

^^ISTo." 

^MVhat does Doctor Bently say?" 

He says the girPs an idiot," 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEE 


39 




Since when?^^ 

Since she fell/^ 

Not from her youth then?^^ 

Lamar smiled. 

That would be hardly probable. Your sister stated 
it fairly! Idiots donT dress up in street costume, in 
garments tastily made to fit them.-^^ 

Then do I understand this trouble is caused by a 
blow or by a shock? I thought by what you said the 
other day she had hit her head and gouged a piece out of 
her brain. 

Lamar laughed. 

^^It is unnecessary to say you are an artist, he 
commented, rather than a physician. Levity aside, 
neither Dr. Bently nor myself thought the blow on the 
head sufficient by itself to have produced this result. 
My idea of it is that there was some structural, or func- 
tional, trouble in the brain prior to the accident. Then 
the shocli alone may have had a good deal to do with it.^^ 
Then it is possible that this is the effect of terror. 
Possibly. 

Possibly I How conservative and cold-blooded you 
are! Candidly, canT medical science unravel this mys- 
tery and tell the why and wherefore of this matter?’^ 
Not at the present stage of the case and in the pres- 
ent state of medical science. 

^MVhat a pretentious humbug science is, anyway !^^ 
fumed Maxey. 

The best wish I can have for you is that you will 
live to see the absurdity of that remark, my boy. 
Science is unpretentious and real. People who have the 
most to say against it know the least about it. If you 
hear a man berating it, ten to one it has disturbed 


40 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


some old pet fancy of his. Science wouldn^t suit you 
because you are too impatient. It works slowly, my 
boy; slowly, but surely. 

Doctor Lamar said all this calmly and dispassionately, 
as he rose to assume his outer garments. Maxey had 
opened his lips to reply when there came a knocking at 
the door. He stepped into the hall and looked out. On 
the threshold stood the brave fellow who had been low- 
ered from the edge of the bluff at the ropers end to res- 
cue an imperilled life a week before. 

Maxey was so surprised that he seemed, at first, to 
be in danger of forgetting his hospitality; but, in a 
moment or two, he recovered himself and invited his 
visitor in. 

^^No, thankee,^^ said the young man, awkwardly, tak- 
ing off his hat and glancing around him, but my little 
brother found this on the beach in the snow underneath 
where the young woman hung, sir, and we thought, be- 
tween us, that maybe, as it might be of some use, maybe 
I^d better put on my hat and coat and run up.^^ 

Eun up! It was eight miles. 

Maxey took a bit of soiled and damp paper from the 
man^s hand. It was a folded sheet of writing paper, 
and contained these words, traced with pale ink in a 
feminine hand: 

SoMEKsET, December 8, 1884. 

Dear Akkette. — I have never forgotten you during 
all our separation, and to my astonishment and delight 
I yesterday learned a matter of the deepest importance 
to yourself. Annette, you have been deceived as to your 
parentage. Your real father and mother are known to 
me. I want to tell you all about it at once, but there 
are good reasons why I should not come to the house. 
You will understand this fully when you see me. I am 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL, 


41 


stopping out in Somerset at present, but there are other 
reasons why you shouldn’t be seen there. I have 
thought up a place that will be convenient for both of 
us. Annette, you remember the hotel at Cliffs Head, 
where you came with your mother two years ago. J ust 
across the road there is a seat, you will remember. Why 
can’t you come out on the train, and walk up the road, 
and wait for me there about six o’clock to-morrow 
(Tuesday) night? If this note seems hasty and very, 
very strange to you, Annette, believe me there are 
strange things to come, which I will tell you of. After 
you know what I know you need never go back again, 
unless you wish. After all the trouble I have been to 
in this matter, and for your sake, I have no fear of any 
failure on your part to be at the place named. 

Your very true friend, 

Mrs. Agatha G. Hapgood. 

P. S. — I may be a little late but I shall not fail to 
keep my appointment. 

Maxey read this remarkable epistle aloud in the pres- 
ence of the doctor, who had joined him in the hall. The 
excitable artist was aglow with enthusiasm. 

Here is something tangible at last ! Here is a woman 
with a name! You did right, my good man, to bring 
this document here. You were right in believing it 
important. You have done us all a great service. Tell 
your little brother, my good man, that if he will bring 
me the envelope this letter was contained in I’ll make 
him a handsome present. W e’ll be at the bottom of this 
affair yet, or my name’s not Maxey. An unexpected 
good fortune, Lamar, don’t you think? And one that 
will throw much light on this obscure matter?” 

Lamar frowned and replied cautiously: I am not a 
detective, and I have not studied the letter, but it 
strikes me the wording is peculiar and the signature 


42 


THE FACE OF R08EHFEL, 


extraordinary. The name is explicit enough in all con- 
science. A woman writing a confidential letter like that 
to a friend does not often take so much pains to get in 
her full name, as if she were signing a will. Take care 
that some crafty fellow hasn^t thrown this letter in your 
way for the purpose of putting you on the wrong track. 

Maxey looked a little bewildered, but he seized his hat 
and coat, without making a reply, and darted down the 
stairs. 

^"What very excitable people these Maxey s are!^^ 
thought the philosophic doctor, as he went away, and 
what a deal of interest they do take in this case. I 
wonder where Miss Ellen went to? How pretty she 
looked when her blood was up! There would be some 
satisfaction in crossing such a woman just for the picture 
one Avould get. But, bah! what am I thinking about? 
What is this to me?^^ 

Nevertheless, he sighed as he went back, half heartily, 
to his work again. Till very recently this work had 
been his pride and his life. Now, as he took it up, it 
seemed like a task, almost a burden. There was a 
woman’s face — a handsome, but not a welcome face, be- 
fore his eyes night and day. Something was wrong 
with Doctor Lamar; something seriously wrong with 
him, something from which even his science might not 
save him. 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEH 


43 


CHAPTEE IV. 

THE LOCKED DOOR. 

W HEN* Maxey in his usual spirits was ascending 
the long flights of stairs which led to his apart- 
ments he came up two steps at a time. But somehow a 
mental depression had so mysterious and intimate a con- 
nection with his powers of locomotion that when any- 
thing troubled him very much he was apt to content him- 
self with the ordinary rate of progress. This afternoon 
his footsteps lagged on every stair. He looked at his 
latch-key abstractedly for several minutes before he 
placed it in the lock, and when he did Anally perform 
this operation it was with a savage thrust as though he 
wanted to stab the door. It was not quite dark when 
the key turned and he went in. 

Ah!^^ said Doctor Lamar from his chair by the bed- 
side in the windowless alcove room, looking out between 
the looped curtains as the artist entered. ^^ You are 
here at last! I am glad you have come. Doctor Bently 
has just been down from the hospital. He is almost as 
much interested in the case as your worthy sister — and 
donT be surprised if you see me carried away by the 
same craze. He says he thinks there^s a slight change 
in the patient^s mental condition. 

Does that mean good?^^ asked the artist. 

His sister answered quickly: 

Of course P 

Oh, possibly, substituted the cautious physician. 


44 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 


You must not let your wishes dictate your conclusions 
so largely. Miss Maxey. You will make a very probable 
disappointment much more keen by so doing. Now, I 
don^t always say what I think, you know; but you are 
my friends, and I cannot feel like a professional man in 
this house; and I must tell you that this case is develop- 
ing some of the most remarkable mental phenomena I 
ever met with. Whether they are symptoms of a curi- 
ous brain disease, or simply reminiscences of the normal 
mental condition of the patient, I am unable at present 
to decide. Doctor Bently is as much in the dark as 
myself, and when Doctor Bently hesitates in a case of 
this kind, it is of little use to inquire further. We have 
been making some interesting experiments in your ab- 
sence. And that reminds me that Miss Maxey said you 
went' out for a specific purpose. Have they learned any- 
thing? What about the letter they found on the beach 
yesterday ?^^ 

Learned echoed Maxey, impatiently, as his sister 
helped him off with his coat, after which it appeared 
that both his hair and his necktie were in a terrible 
state. Learned! What could you expect of such an 
exasperating affair as this? Is there anything about it 
like anything else you ever heard of? Does anybody 
concerned in it do anything that a rational being would 
expect him to do? Not a bit of it. Mark my word, 
now, if the thing ever does come out it will be just what 
nobody thought it was. But may I be shot, if I believe 
we are ever going to know any more about it than we do 
at present. Our only hope is that the girl will get well 
enough to tell us; and she won^t, I know very well she 
won’t. 

But the letter, Julian,” urged his sister. Surely, 
the letter ” 


\ 




THE FACE, OF ROSENFEH 


45 


The letterT^ echoed the exasperated Maxey. The 
letter is just like everything else — a mystery. The let- 
ter leads just were the footsteps in the snow did — no- 
where. 

But even they gave us a hint of the direction the 
fiend went/"^ said the sister. Oh, I think they are 
acting terribly stupid in this affair! If I could get out 
now I believe I could do something. 

I believe you could do wonders, of course, returned 
Maxey, a little spitefully, for he was still suffering the 
keenness of his disappointment. But I would like to 
be informed, for instance, what you would do in this 
case?'^ 

^^Do? I would hunt up that Mrs. Hapgood, who 
wrote that letter, if I had to question every man, woman 
and child in the city to do so.'’^ 

Of course you would, and so would anybody. That 
is just what the police did do. Only they were sane 
enough to look in the diretory instead of attempting the 
catechising. Why, they had a gentleman in conversa- 
tion with Mrs. Hapgood before the letter had been in 
their hands an hour.'’^ 

Then there is such a person cried the doctor and 
Miss Maxey together. 

Oh, yes, there is; but she never heard of or saw the 
letter before, and what is more she is not acquainted 
with any Annette and has not a single friend or foe to 
her knowledge missing, or to whom such a letter could 
be written or such an accident possible. And as this 
Mrs. Hapgood is a very worthy and respectable old lady, 
indeed, it is no use to say she would lie about such an 
affair. You see, I couldnT believe it second-hand and I 
have been to see her myself and that’s the result. 


THE FACE OF BOSEFFEL. 


4e 

Maxey flung his gloves moodily on the center-table 
and dropped himself with a disgusted expression into an 
easy-chair, which his sister had wheeled in front of the 
grate. 

How very strange cried Miss Maxey. 

Well, isn^t it in perfect keeping with all the rest? I 
was so exasperated to think it should turn out in that 
way, that I hardly spoke to the old lady civilly. I know 
her, or rather know of her, too. She^s a sort of an 
amateur artist and IVe met her before. She was quite 
upset and distressed at the idea that anybody should 
think of connecting her name with what she called that 
shocking affair, and cried out: ^ Oh, they w^on^t put my 
name in the papers, will they?^ I showed her the letter, 
and she let me see some specimens of her handwriting. 
There was no sort of similarity between them. She^s a 
well meaning old soul as ever lived and I^m sorry I 
disturbed her. That^s all. But it^s terribly exasper- 
ating!^^ 

^^But, Julian, dear,^^ pleaded his sister, ^^there must 
be some mistake. There must be some other Mrs. Hap- 
good.""^ 

Oh, without a doubt — dozens of Mrs. Agatha G. 
Hapgoods! Why, there isnT a Hapgood family in Som- 
erset and never has been, and the old lady assures me 
that there isnT another Agatha G. to her knowledge in 
existence. 

At any rate,^^ Ellen insisted, we have learned one 
thing beyond a doubt. We know the poor girhs name. 
In good time we shall know everything. Annette will 
get well, I am sure of it.^^ 

But Maxey did not want to be comforted. He looked 
unutterable disgust and changed the subject. 


THE FACE OF BOSEFFEL. 


47 


You mentioned that you had been making experi- 
ments, Lamar 

assented the physician, we have discovered 
something. First, our patient has a most remarkable 
power of visualization and next she is very susceptible to 
the influence of music. She was so excited by Miss 
Maxey^s flne singing this afternoon that she fainted. 

^^The deuce cried Maxey, beginning to brighten up 
at once, either I don^t understand the thing the least 
in the world or this means very good news.^^ 

Possibly."" 

Possibly! There you go again. You use that evas- 
ive word to avoid committing yourself on any subject just 
as soon as anybody asks you a direct question. Be candid, 
Lamar. Doesn’t this mean that there is a bare chance 
of singing her back to her senses again?"" 

To the question put in that limited and cautious 
way I would answer ^yes.""" 

Maxey became very much excited. 

Why not begin now at once and sing till she gets 
well?"" he cried. 

No, no!"" said the sister. That won"t do. Both 
doctors have forbidden any more music at present, and 
for to-night — absolute quiet."" 

That is another medical humbug which they think 
of when they haven"t any nastiness at hand to dose with,"" 
muttered Maxey. Absolute quiet! Stuff! AndwhaPs 
that other thing with the long name you say she"s subject 
to?"" 

^^Visualization? It means the power of retaining the 
image of an object after it has disappeared from the 
actual fleld of sight so vividly that its exact form is still 
seen. We all have it in a greater or le^s degree. In her 


48 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


it is exceedingly strong. Some people who have the 
faculty in a marked degree can close their eyes and call 
up at will the face of an absent friend with such distinct- 
ness that it is quite like looking at him. At least I have 
been told so. I must say my own impressions are very 
faint. 

Now you are getting into my field/^ said Maxey, who 
was very much interested. That is a faculty possessed 
by some of our best portrait painters, notably Sir Joshua 
Eeynolds. I never heard it called by that name, but it 
is obvious that the man who can keep a subject before 
his mental vision constantly, other things being equal, 
will make the best picture. Why, I went into the studio 
of a friend of mine the other day and I was struck at 
once by a splendid portrait in oils he had just completed. 
^ How many sittings did you have for that?^ I asked him. 
^If I tell you and you should repeat it to anybody, I 
might not get my price for the picture,^ he said. There 
were really about twenty sittings, but eighteen of them 
were shams. After the first two I never did any work 
when the subject was before me.*’ Don't you see this is 
just a case in point. At the first sitting he had sketched 
the outline of the face, and, as he told me, whenever he 
wanted to sit down and work at it he had only to recall 
the personas face to his mind, and he can really do his 
best work from this mental copy alone by himself. The 
presence of the real face detracts his attention and makes 
him nervous. He has the power. Well, if it is a mental 
faculty and our girl gets well, she is going to remember 
all about this time and these events since we found her 
in a series of pictures, I take it.""^ 

Lamar laughed. Something after the style of a pan- 
orama^ I suppose? No^ Maxey, you reason too loosely, 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL, 


49 


V"oii don^t weigh your own words. Eemember all about 
it! Do you know what it is to remember? It is to re- 
call something that we have once known. This poor girl 
knows nothing of what is transpiring around her, and 
has not since the moment when she lost her senses on 
the rocks at the sea-road. What never is known cannot 
by any possibility be remembered. No; whatever may 
be the future of the patient, this present time will 
always be a blank to her.^^ 

Doctor Lamar spoke very positively. 

Well, sighed Maxey, ^^if she but recovers enough 
to explain who she is and how ^he came where we found 
her, I shall feel reasonably satisfied. Still, I canT see 
what your visualization amounts to if she cannot carry 
a picture which she sees now into the future, whatever 
be her condition. 

^^Ah, that is another thing, said Lamar, quite 
another thing from memory. That might be. She 
might carry the picture; but it would be a picture 
simply, unassociated with the succession of events. If 
she were a painter, now, though she never knew you, 
she might paint your face and think it an idea of her 
own. Not very probable, I admit, but still it might be.^^ 
Maxey looked serious. 

What a curious fancy, that,^^ he mused. ^‘1 believe 
if she does get well I will teach her the first thing to 
paint. Heigho! but she^s not well yet.^^ 

It had grown quite dark in the sitting-room while 
they had been talking. The early evening of a winter^s 
day had already come ! Lamar, all at once, awoke to a 
realization of the flight of time. He turned the face 
of his watch to the fire and exclaimed; 

What mx I lagging he?? for? It is nearly si^ 


60 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 




o’clock! If I don’t look out this girl will ruin my busi- 
ness. Let us see how the patient is before we go. No, 
you need not trouble yourself to get a light. Miss 
Maxey. I have more senses than one. Ah! sleeping 
quietly. That is good, very good. I shouldn’t wonder, 
after all, Maxey — ^but, ah! who knows? who knows?” 

I will strike a light while you put on your things,” 
said Miss Maxey. 

^^Oh, no; don’t, pray. I knowhow comfortable this 
twilight is. Never spoil it with a light if you can help 
it. It is the best time of the day. Well, Maxey, good- 
night.” 

^^No,” said Maxey, suddenly, I think I will go out 
with you. I have got something to say — and, besides, I 
want to smoke. Since our new arrival that’s prohibited 
here, you know. Ellen, you are tired, and if I were 
you I would lie down a little while. I shall not be gone 
very long. I am just going to the corner with the doc- 
tor. But, really, if you will take my advice, you will 
lie down and rest yourself.” 

Don’t worry about me, my dear, good brother. I 
know my strength and my weakness. I shall not over- 
tax myself. It has not hurt me to be up a little nights. 
I feel as bright as a daisy now.” 

This must have been just a trifle wide of the truth, 
Ellen Maxey. Your brother had scarcely closed the 
door behind himself and the handsome doctor when you 
threw your tired body upon the bed. You listened to 
their footsteps going down stairs. You hear them be- 
coming fainter and fainter till they are lost altogether. 
The deep voice of Doctor Lamar is still sounding in 
your ears. Do not deny the fact that it is exceedingly 
good music to you. You thiqk of Doctor Lamar and 
yoq’^onte 


tSE FACE OF nOBENFEL. 


51 


I'he great house is so still and you are so very tired ! 
What was that? Somebody at the door? No; a rat 
gnawing behind the wood-work. A loose coal falls in 
the grate. The wind rattles the panes. There is no 
other sound. Even the fire is paling now — is going out 
entirely. You are sound asleep. 


^^Open the door! Open the door! Ellen! Ellen! 
Open the door, I say!"^ 

Still the silence of the grave within! Julian Maxej 
was thoroughly alarmed by this time. Already he had 
stood in the hall pounding and calling for what seemed 
an age to him. There was something very strange about 
all this. Strange that Ellen, expecting him back directly, 
should lock the door on the inside. Stranger still, that 
she should go out and leave the sick girl alone. 

Ellen! for the last time, Ellen !^^ 

Maxey had a momentary idea of breaking in the door. 
Then he bethought himself of his bunch of keys. He 
thrust one of them into the key-hole. He breathed 
heavily in his excitement. Ah! the key was indeed on 
the inside. By dint of much rattling he managed to 
push it from its place and heard it fall with an ominous 
clink to the fioor. After many ineffectual trials he 
picked the lock. The obstinate door yielded at last to 
his touch. He rushed in. It was totally dark every- 
where. He felt his way to the sitting-room. The only 
light was the dim glow of the coals in the grate, which 
told him nothing. He blindly groped his way to the 
centre- table, where he knew there was a match-safe. In 
the obscurity he struck against a chair and overturned 
it. It fell with a startling crash^ and in the instant of 


52 


THE FACE OF ROSElSfFEL. 


its concussion, starting, as it were, out of the very sound 
itself, he heard again that low, tremulous utterance that 
was neither a moan of pain nor a plea for mercy, buk akin 
to both, just as he had heard it borne on the bitter wind 
from the darkening sea that night on the rocks above 
the surging of the waves. There was something in the 
cry that completely unnerved Maxey. It had always 
been his terror. Now, intensified by the circumstances, 
it assumed the potency of Pate itself. His hand trem- 
bled so he made several futile attempts before he could 
strike a light. Finally the slender shaft took fire and 
blazed up. Maxey touched a gas-jet. In the glare that 
followed he saw the girl they called Annette sitting, 
robed in white, upon the edge of the little bed in the 
alcove room, wringing her hands in the old, nervous 
fashion, her fearful, white face turned toward him, her 
dark eyes regarding him with dread. 

But it was not this that chilled him to the heart; that 
made the color fade from his lips till they were ashen. 
It was the spectacle of his sister, Ellen Maxey, thrown 
down across her bed, a silk handkerchief twisted about 
her neck and her fingers clasping the ends in desperate 
energy. Her face was black, and when he spoke to her 
she did not move. His voice seemed to awake an echo 
in the place. 

Nothing else but the wind rattling the panes, and 
faintly the grinding of the ice against the stones as the 
tide flowed to the sea! 


TEE FACE OF B08ENFEL. 


53 


CHAPTER V. 


THE BURNED PAPER, 


OR ONCE the stoical Lamar lost his composure. 



JL For God^s sake, how did it happen 

In a hollow voice Maxey made the reply: 

They were alone/^ 

The physician was speechless. Maxey thought him 
horrified. On the contrary, he was amazed. When he 
found his voice again there was but a single word in his 
vocabulai-y equal to the situation, and he uttered it: 

Impossible!"^ 

Maxey did not heed him, but went on in a hopeless 
tone: 

^^It was my fault, of course, entirely my fault. I 
allowed myself to be led by her girlish whim when I 
ought to have looked the matter squarely in the face 
and asserted my own will. I ought to have taken your 
advice, Lamar. You knew it; you foretold it all. You 
warned me 

Doctor Lamar interrupted him. 

Not of any such occurrence as this, Maxey. Never. 
Do you mean to tell me that you think the patient 
tightened that handkerchief around your sister’s throat?"" 

I tell you,"" said Maxey, I left them alone — abso- 
lutely alone. When I came back the door was locked."’ 

On the inside?"" 

On the inside."" 

Lamar swept a bewildered glance about the apartment, 


54 


'TEE PAGE OF HOSENFEL. 


stared at the pale face on the bed in the alcove room, at 
the swollen features behind the torn drapery, at the pro- 
fessionally anxious visage of the nurse who was moving 
about between the two. He looked at the doors, at the 
windows, at the chimney-place. He stepped from the 
corner where he had been talking with Maxey to the 
center-table and began, very carefully, to put his surgi- 
cal instruments back into the case from which he had 
lately removed them. When he had completed this 
task, he closed the box with a sudden snap, and turning 
to the artist, with the positive energy of a man who has 
thoroughly made up his mind, said: 

Maxey, you are crazy 

His emphatic manner aroused the young man from 
his stupor. From the moment when he heard the key 
fall from its place on the inside of the door as he tried 
to open it everything had seemed to him like the illogi- 
cal, haphazard happenings of a dream. If he had acted 
with promptness and vigor in the emergency he had 
done so mechanically, in a sort of instinctive fashion, 
without reflection. After assistance had arrived and 
the immediate excitement was over, he went about in a 
daze. The physician^s sharp tone made him start. He 
lifted his eyes from the floor, unclasped his hands, which 
had been folded behind his back, and passed his palm 
over his throbbing forehead. 

believe you are more than half right, he mur- 
mured. The blow was so sudden and unexpected that 
it crushed me. Lamar, you have always been the best 
of friends. We were boys together. I know you 
wouldnT deceive me about a matter of this kind. Tell 
me the truth at once. You have grave fears for Ellen 

^^No; I haven% returned Lamar, quickly. ‘^1 have 


THE FACE OF EOlSEFFEL. 


55 


no fears at all. She will be herself again with proper 
care in three days. Don^t imagine from that there has 
been no danger. It was a terribly narrow escape — a 
terribly narrow escape. 

Escape from what — from whom? You said just 
now that I was crazy, Lamar, because I gave utterance 
to what seemed to me the only possible suspicion a man 
could entertain. I dame home, find them alone, and I 
infer that the poor, irresponsible creature had indeed 
fulfilled your prediction and brought terrible trouble 
upon us. And now you say 

Impossible, the physician interposed positively. 

Annette did not do it?^^ 

Annette could not have done it.-^^ 

Maxey seemed electrified. He glanced around the 
room with an air of suspicion and excitement. Then 
with characteristic impulsiveness he seized his hat and 
coat. 

Lamar, who had been watching him with a look of 
grave concern in his handsome features, laid his hand 
gently on his shoulder. 

What are you going to do?^^ 

Do? I am going to the police. I am going to have 

this matter investigated at once. I 

He stopped short, amazed by the expression which he 
saw in the physician^s face. 

^^No, Julian Maxey, not if I can prevent it.-’^ 

The serious, earnest gravity, the utter solemnity of 
Doctor Lamarrs speech and manner frightened the 
artist. 

^^What is it, Lamar? Eor heaven^a sake! what are 
you thinking about ?^^ 

I cannot tell you here. Let me see you in private/^ 


56 


TEE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 


A nervous trembling took Maxey all at once. He did 
not know why. He led the way to the front of the 
house. There was a dim light in the parlor. Maxey did 
not turn it up. He sat down close beside the physician 
on a sofa. Lamar did not seem to see his way clearly to 
what he wanted to say, and after a moment^s silence 
Maxey spoke up excitedly: 

There^s something on your mind, Lamar; I know it. 
There is something which you know /ind I don^t know, 
so serious that you hesitate to tell mo of it.^^ 

No,^^ said Lamar gravely. I know nothing which 
you do not know — much less, in fact, than you ought to 
know. I only desire that you shall stop to think before 
you act. You have not told me everything. 

^^Good heavens! How am I to tell you everything? 
We must question Ellen. 

I had rather not question Ellen. 

Maxey was silent from astonishment. 

My dear boy,^^ said the physician in a low and not 
wholly steady voice, ^^are you sure your sister has been 
entirely happy of late?’^ 

am quite sure she Jias notT^ cried Maxey impetu- 
ously. 

Do you know what troubled her?^^ 

Maxey did not answer, but he became scarlet to the 
roots of his hair. The light was dim, but the change in 
the artistes manner did not escape the observant physi- 
cian. Doctor Lamar became slightly embarrassed. 

I beg your pardon if in my anxiety for yciir welfare 
I have touched on a family matter. 

It is nothing to be ashamed of,^^ blurted out Maxey, 
^^but it is her own secret, and I have no right to mention 
it. She has never whispered a word to me. But I am 
not blind. 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


57 


^^Don^t betray her, I beg of you/' said the physician 
earnestly, ^^but when she recovers, if you have any 
power to remove the cause of her unhappiness do so. I 
say this in all earnestness. She must not be allowed to 
brood. 

Maxey suddenly arose. For the first time the nature 
of his friend's suspicion dawned upon him. 

^^You believe this was my sister's own act?" he ex- 
claimed in an unnaturally calm voice. 

^ ^ She wore the handkerchief about her neck. I noticed 
it there this afternoon." 

She did!" cried Maxey, losing his calmness all at 
once. ^^She did. But don't you fiatter yourself, 
Lamar, that the unhappiness I spoke of was of sufficient 
strength to induce the poor girl to take her own life. 
Not a bit of it, sir! Not in the least! Preposterous! It 
would have urged her rather to live. The idea! Why, 
there isn't a naturally more cheerful and contented per- 
son alive than my sister Ellen. Kill herself? I guess 
not! One of these days, Lamar, you'll see what a fool 
you've made of yourself. Is this your ground for believ- 
ing Annette incapable? Eustace, if I am crazy, you're 
a raving maniac." 

The artist was pacing the fioor excitedly and spoke as 
if he was addressing a multitude. 

Don't talk so loud," said Lamar, a little impatiently. 

You know I am the last man in the world to toisli to 
believe this theory. You know I would never mention 
it to any other than yourself. Nothing but a sense of 
duty and personal friendship would induce me to speak 
of it now. If it is true, it is necessary that you should 
be warned. If it is not true, you will forgive me for 
speaking of it. You believe, Maxey, that the imbecile 


58 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


pulled the ends of the handkerchief your sister wore. 
Did the imbecile also lock the door?^^ 

Maxey stopped as abruptly in his walk as if he had 
suddenly encountered a wall. There was complete 
silence for full a minute, and then the artist spoke in a 
different tone. 

I am acting like a lunatic/^ he said quietly. I have 
too little system. I only take in half the situation, and 
ignore the other half. There is a significance in that 
locked door, quite other, perhaps, than I had imagined. 
We each jumped to a conclusion. We undoubtedly are 
both wrong. Lamar, I am going to search the house. 
Will you come, too?^^ 

His manner was so much more calm than it had been 
that Doctor Lamar felt relieved of a great responsibility. 

^^You have recovered yourself, Maxey, he said. 

DonT lose your head again at the first new turn in 
affairs. 

Maxey accepted the rebuke quietly. 

You are right, Eustace. I do lose my head too eas- 
ily. But I have recovered myself now. Meanwhile I am 
afraid we have lost very valuable time.^^ 

Doctor Lamar arose with a new light in his eyes. 

Then you think 

That somebody may have been here in my absence. 

This seemed a positively luminous idea to the physi- 
cian. Bad as the alternative was, under the circum- 
stances both men would be glad to accept it. 

Nevertheless Lamar said doubtingly: 

Do you suspect anybody 

^^Is there any possible motive?^^ 

To kill my sister? In God^s name, how could there 


her 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL, 


59 


What enemies have you 

^^None, thank GodP 

Lamar sighed. After all, was there much plausibility 
in the artistes suggestion? All at once he turned upon 
his friend with a new question: 

Maxey, are you sure you have not been robbed ?^^ 

Maxey started. 

I was thinking of that very thing myself. I have 
not missed anything, but I have been very much excited, 
and, possibly — possibly, Lamar, I see it all. We went 
out and the thief who had been watching his chance 
crept in. All was dark here and while he was searching 
for valuables he alarmed Ellen who was asleep on the 
bed. She thought, perhaps, it was myself returning and 
called to him. To save himself he sprang upon her and 
choked her. When she became motionless he ran and 
locked the door, perhaps to make sure of not being in- 
terrupted ; or better still, because he heard me coming 
and was afraid. Ho then concealed himself in one of 
the rooms. Perhaps in the very place where we are 
standing. He waited till he heard me come in or till a 
suitable opportunity presented itself, crept through the 
two rooms to the door and got away unnoticed. 

Well done, Maxey cried Lamar, with something 
approaching enthusiasm, ^^you have devised at last a 
plausible theory.-’^ 

He stopped abruptly with a new expression of doubt. 
His eyes rested on the door, which closed immediately 
between the front parlor and the outer corridor. 

^^The obvious objection to your theory is that the sup- 
posed thief might have escaped through this door by 
simply turning the key in the lock. It was locked on 
the inside, was it not?^^ 


60 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEH 


It was and is and will remain so until I get the 
leisure to bring a locksmith here to fix it. I twisted the 
key off in the lock the other day and nothing will dis- 
lodge the stump. 

Nevertheless, Maxey tried the door. It was securely 
fast. 

This being the only means of getting into the outer 
hall, except by the door which led from the little vesti- 
bule belonging to the suit — a passageway extending the 
width of Miss Maxey^s sleeping chamber and connecting 
the large rear room with the back parlor, Maxey natu- 
rally saw no objection to his theory so far. Out of this 
private hall were three doors beside the outer door — one 
opening at one end into the sitting room; another at the 
other extremity, into the rear parlor, and the third at 
the back into Miss Maxey^s chamber. It would have 
been easy for the intruder, with this ample provision for 
his purpose, to have escaped observation until a suitable 
opportunity presented for his safe escape from the suit. 

Maxey began his search of the premises by looking 
under a sofa and behind a bookcase. From this thorough 
beginning he went on in a most careful and methodical 
manner, peeping into closets, opening drawers, to ascer- 
tain whether their contents had been disturbed, and 
leaving no spot unvisited, the position of no carelessly 
thrown aside article unexplained. The search was fruit- 
less. Not an atom of evidence to substantiate the theory 
advanced by Maxey could be discovered. Both men 
were disappointed and thoughtful when the tour of 
investigation was finished. 

They stood at last before the grate in the room with 
the nurse and the two sufferers, warming their hands. 
Once in a while Maxey^s troubled gaze sought Doctor 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 


61 


Lamarrs face, but the physician^s glance was downward 
and his brow contracted. 

Lamar tapped his foot moodily against the fender and 
seemed wrapped in a brown study. Maxey longed for 
some word of encouragement or comfort from his friend, 
the physician. He had the greatest confidence in 
Doctor Lamarrs carefully considered opinions, but this 
time the physician did not seem to have any opinion to 
offer. 

Suddenly Lamarrs attention was caught by an object 
lying on the hearthstone. He stooped and picked it up. 

^^Have you been burning paper, Maxey 

returned Maxey, quickly, have not.^^ 

AVhat is that?"^ 

Maxey took from his hand the corner of a newspaper 
with a charred edge. He scrutinized it suspiciously. 
Ordinarily he would have thrown such an object aside 
contemptuously. In the present emergency he would 
have examined a pin if Lamar had handed it to him. 

^^Have you burned any paper in this grate, Mrs. 
Davis asked Maxey of the nurse. Think before you 
speak. It may be a very important matter. 

have not had any paper in my hand since I have 
been here. That's easily settled." 

There has been a very large piece of paper burned 
here," said Lamar in a whisper. See there, and there! 
The black ashes are all about." 

The physician stamped his foot near the grate and the 
little breath of air caused by the concussion made a 
rustle of light-burned paper on the floor. 

It is the newspaper containing the story of our find- 
ing Annette!" exclaimed the artist, with growing sus- 
picion. A paper which I was very anxious to keep. 


62 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


and which Ellen was quite as particular about. I left it 
here on the table. What do you make of it, Lamar? 
What would you do?^^ 

confess I am in the dark. But I am very certain 
you want to save that scrap of paper and to keep the 
event in mind. If not now the day may come when it 
will supply a most important evidence. As for now, I 
would suggest that you question the people in the 
house. 

Maxey proceeded at once to act upon the suggestion. 
The physician, after stopping a moment, to examine his 
patient, put on his hat and followed him. The occu- 
pants of the floor below had heard nothing and seen 
nothing, but Maxey persisted with the determination of 
despair. He found the janitor at the foot of the stairs. 

^^My good man,^^ he said to him, ^^do you recall see- 
ing me go out with my friend, the doctor, here, just 
after dark?"^ 

I do, sir; very well, sir.""^ 

^^It is very important that you should not give a hasty 
answer to the question I am going to ask you. Very 
important, for a failure in your recollection may get us 
all into trouble. 

hope, Mr. Maxey, there is nothing serious in the 
matter 

^^Your hopes are vain, then. There is something 
very serious the matter. Did you see anybody about the 
hall after my departure 

^^Ho, sir.^^ 

You are sure 

I am; because, you see, I was going down cellar at the 
time to look after the furnaces and I stayed below there 
for an hour. No, sir. I am sorry I canT help you, but 


THE FACE OF nOSEJSTFEL. 


63 


I haven^t seen anybody; that^s the fact of it, sir. I"d 
have remembered it if I had. I don^t forget easy, even 
little trifles like that. Now, there was a friend of yours 
here this morning asking after you and I could repeat 
the whole circumstances.''^ 

Kepeat them, please,^' said Maxey, quickly. 

The man came here to the foot of the stairs. ^It's 
too much trouble to go up," he said, ^but have you seen 
my friend Mr. Maxey to-day?" ^ I have," I said. ^How 
is he looking?" was his next question. ^ Looking fine, 
sir," says I. ^And that invalid of his; that girl they 
found on the rocks, how is she coming on?" "" 

At this point the janitor"s face became troubled, and 
he looked a little confused. 

Well,"" said Maxey, ^^that"s very important. What 
was your answer. Tell us exactly."" 

Maybe I told him more than I had any right to tell, 
but the fact is, sir, I was in a hurry and wanted to 
be rid of him. Says I, ^ Oh, she"s all right." ^ All 
right?" he says. ^ What do you mean?" ^ I mean they"re 
doctoring her up," I says, ^ and they"ll soon have her out 
of it." I thought he looked somewhat astonished, and I 
said to him: ^If you want to know any particulars 
you"d better go right up and see the gentleman himself, 
sir," I said. ^ Some other time," he remarked, and 
turned square around and walked out."" 

Maxey and Lamar looked at each other. There was 
an interrogation in both glances. 

Did you ever see this lazy friend of mine before ?"" 
questioned Maxey. 

^^Only once, sir. That's how I knew when I saw him 
he was a friend of yours. He came day before yesterday 
and asked me the same questions."" 


64 


THE FACE OF ROSEHFEL. 


And wouldn’t go up?” 

was averse to climbing, sir.” 

^^Can you describe him?” 

Well, he was a man, I should say, about forty, with 
small eyes, near together, bushy eyebrows, smooth face, 
and a hook nose. He wore a handsome pin in his shirt 
front. I don’t know as I can say much more definite.” 

This means something,” cried Maxey, with a touch 
of his former excitement as they remounted tlie stairs. 

And to think that our hands are tied! If only I might 
ask Ellen two little questions.” 

Lamar made no reply to this. But as soon as he 
reached the room he went to the bedside, felt the 
patient’s pulse, and exchanged a few words with the 
nurse. 

Ellen lay with her face swollen, her throat well ban- 
daged, breathing with great pain and difficulty. The 
physician turned from an earnest scrutiny of her face to 
the artist. The emergency seemed so grave to him that 
he resolved to permit a matter which ordinarily he would 
have been too cautious to countenance. 

You may ask her just one question.” 

Maxey threw himself on a knee beside the bed and put 
back the hair from his sister’s forehead with a tremulous 
hand. 

Ellen! Ellen!” he murmured. 

A slight motion of the head indicated that she heard 
him. 

Don’t try to turn your head, dear. Don’t exert 
yourself to answer me; but tell me, if you can, who did 
it?” 

The head nodded slightly in the negative and the lisp 
made an unsuccessful attempt to frame an answer. 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


65 


Thinks Ellen — did you turn the key in the door?^^ 

Again the negative motion of the head. Again the 
lips moved. Maxey put his ear close down and caught 
the painfully whispered words: 

I don^t know — I was — asleep — I heard Annette cry 
— and then — I felt — myself — grow faint 

There! there eried Maxey, starting up. ^^You 
have told me enough, dear. DonT try to talk any more. 
Lamar, I tell you there is something wrong here. This 
must be placed in the hands of the police. Unless my 
instinct deceives me this dastardly attack on my poor 
sister is intimately connected with the matter that kept 
us waiting that cold night on the sea road. 

Maxey had passed from the bedside and drew Lamar 
into a corner near the window — a window that looked 
out over the dark, lonesome river. The black tide flowed 
on silently beneath the thickening ice. A chill gust of 
wind from the sea passed the house with a rush. The 
windows rattled ominously in the sash. 

The artist started: 

^^How searching the wind is to-night! Ah! here is 
the mischief! The sash is not shut tightly at the bot- 
tom.''^ 

Abstractedly he closed and locked the window and 
came away. 

Yes, yes,^^ he muttered, it is better to go to the 
police at once.^^ 


Not to the police, good Maxey, not to the tardy officers 
of a human justice — not in that direction lies the thing of 
which you are in search, but down there — down there 
where the lonesome river flows silently beneath the 
thickening ice, and all is cold and dark. 


65 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE REPLY. 

I T SEEMED, indeed, that the artisPs prediction 
that the mystery of the sea-road would remain a 
mystery forever was destined to be fulfilled. The days 
came and went and there was no developments to en- 
courage a faltering and disgusted police. It was the 
more strange because a full description of poor Annette 
had been published in all the papers, and there had been 
a deal of interest in the matter. But public interest to be 
kept alive must be fed, and one morning the city editors 
of the several dailies awoke to find a choice collection of 
new material for interesting reading, and straightway 
pigeon-holed the old till duller times. And so the 
poor creature with the wounded intellect was forgot- 
ten. 

A very rich man had suddenly and completely disap- 
peared, under circumstances so suspicious as to warrant 
the most shocking speculations. And the newspapers 
did not spare their readers^ feelings. The reason was sim- 
ply that the newspapers had learned from long experience 
that their readers did not desire to be spared — in fact, 
would be rather inclined to resent any such forethought 
on the part of the newsgatherers. For this and the 
other good reason that the supplemental mystery of the 
assault on Ellen Maxey never got into print at all, the 
matter dropped. 

And SO; Maxey^s great double mystery remained, in 


THE FACE OF EOSEFFEL. 


67 


spite of his almost frantic attempts to dispel it. No 
new clews appeared and the old ones, like the footsteps 
in the field at Somerset, led nowhere. The police were 
discouraged, and even Doctor Lamar gave it as his 
opinion that time spent in looking into this matter was 
time wasted. 

Miss Maxey fulfilled the physician^s predictions by 
getting well in a few days, but the poor, frightened 
face that looked forth from the pillows in the little 
alcove room was as pale and pitiful as ever. The ex- 
periments with music, as a power for good, which 
promised so much in the beginning, justified Doctor 
Lamarrs forebodings in the end. Never after that first 
day were the emotions aroused in the patient of suffi- 
cient strength to cause her to lose consciousness. Music 
always attracted her, interested her, even drove off for a 
time that monotonous motion of the hands, which 
seemed so dreadful to the strong, healthy people about 
her, but it left no permanent impression. It was not 
progressive. It was not an educator. Alas! for honest 
Julianas simple and beautiful idea of bringing her back 
to her lost world! 

The thought was too poetic for reality. In vain did 
pretty Ellen Maxey sing her sweetest songs. The wan 
face still turned with the same mute terror upon her sur- 
roundings; the eyes never ceased the restless search for 
the horror that did not come; and the small white hands 
continued to clasp and unclasp themselves as of old. 

But one day there was a change in the symptoms. A 
peculiar spasmodic action of the muscles of the face and 
limbs began to manifest itself. When Doctor Lamar 
saw this his face lighted up with a sudden hope. 

For a long time he had been very grave. He had 


68 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL, 


gone about in a continual abstraction^ and had even been 
occasionally seen with his umbrella under his arm in fine 
weather — an unmistakable indication that he was be- 
coming absent-minded. Never before had he met with 
a case which baffled him so persistently as this. From 
the hour when he knelt beside her in the snow by the 
sea-road and had given his opinion that it was a ^^very 
serious matter/^ the patient had never been wholly out of 
his mind. It made him angry to think that the informa- 
tion contained in this first statement of his impressions 
of the case, as he bent over Ellen Maxey^s shoulder and 
saw the white face looking up by the light of the lantern, 
was about the sum and substance of all he had been able 
to learn since; but such was the fact. What more could 
he say with any certainty to-day than this? To be sure, 
it had puzzled older men than he, but that was small 
consolation to a mind like LamaFs. The greater thr 
obstacles the more determined he became to overcome 
them. 

Either I will be the death of this problem or it will 
be the death of me,^^ he said to himself; and with this 
conviction he had set to work to save his own life. He 
saw the patient so often that he photographed every 
look and motion she was accustomed to make upon his 
mind. Not the movement of a muscle, not the twitch- 
ing of an eyelid, escaped him. He went about studying 
overy one of these apparent trivialities and trying to 
account for it. 

Just as Maxey treasured up every scrap of evidence 
which promised to throw any light on the great double 
mystery which entirely nonplussed the police, so the 
physician, constituting himself a medical detective, 
looked upon the various symptoms of the girFs condition 


TEE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


6J> 


as so many clews to the great pathological mystery which 
was baffling Mm. During the weeks following the dis- 
covery of Annette he re-read almost his entire library on 
brain diseases. Afterward he borrowed from a friend. 

One night he came across a passage which startled 
him. It was the particular statement of the symptoms 
of a patient in a German hospital who died with a strange 
malady that completely mystified the physicians. The 
result of the post-mortem examination appended showed 
that the secret cause of his death was a cerebral compli- 
cation, the chief factor in which was a tumor in the 
brain. A foot-note suggested that this abnormal growth 
had probably been caused by a fall. 

Perhaps it was because he watched with a new idea in 
his mind; but it was the very next day, when Lamar re- 
newed his observations at the bedside of the patient in 
Ballavoine Place, that he detected the spasmodic symp- 
toms for the first time. The result was that he became 
convinced. He could scarcely conceal his delight when 
he came to take his departure. 

Miss Maxey was a quick reader of faces, and of his face 
in particular. She stopped him at the door and said, 
shyly but determinedly: 

^^You have some good news for us, but you are so 
afraid that we shall be disappointed that you hesitate to 
tell itr 

said Lamar; ^^but I think I have located her 
disorder. However, I am not an authority in this mat- 
ter. I shall bring some friends here, with your leave, 
this afternoon." 

He smiled so pleasantly to himself that Ellen was de- 
lighted. 

Surely, if this be true you will know just what to do 
to cure her?" 


70 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


Cure ? I said nothing about curing. No; it is 
necessarily fatal in its results. 

She flashed one look of horror and indignation into 
his face and turned away without a word. Poor Doctor 
Lamar forgot to smile on his way to the street. But a 
moment before he had felt a glow of professional pride 
in what he ventured to hope was the success of a daring 
diagnosis. As he emerged into the sunlight an intimate 
friend might have thought, from his crestfallen expres- 
sion, that he had met with a severe defeat. 

However, this did not prevent him from calling on 
some of his fellow-physicians, and that afternoon a coun- 
cil of grave and dignifled men stood around the bedside 
of poor Annette. If it had cost the artist anything, that 
little consultation in the back sitting-room would have 
proved an expensive luxury. But, fortunately for him. 
Doctor Lamar was his friend, and there was sufficient 
interest in the case to make these wise and highly-paid 
individuals in black coats think it worth their while to 
have a hand in it for their own information. 

While they were present the artist and his sister were 
excluded from the room. When the meeting was over 
Lamar called them in. They found the physician rub- 
bing his hands in a state of unmistakable elation. In 
fact, his spirits were so high that they somewhat ob- 
scured his vision. He did not seem to notice Miss 
Maxey^s presence, and when Julian asked him how the 
case stood he burst out with an enthusiasm which would 
have done credit to the artist himself. 

I was right! I was right! They have agreed with 
me exactly !^^ 

Miss Maxey suddenly burst into tears and left the 
room. 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEH 


n 


^^She is overjoyed cried Maxey. 

^^Unfortunately, no/^ said the physician, Siting his lip 
in vexation. I ought to have known better. I told 
her this morning that if my diagnosis was correct the 
disease was necessarily fatal. You must tell her, Maxey, 
that I made a mistake. I thought so at the time, but I 
find I was mistaken. There is one chance in a thousand 
that, by submitting to a dangerous operation, which will 
be very likely to either kill or cure her, the patient may 
recover. Without that operation she is doomed to suf- 
fering and death. 

What an alternative!^^ cried Maxey, aghast. 

I am sorry it is not in my power to offer you a bet- 
ter one, but in the present state of science I cannot. 
There is a relentless substance, no bigger than the end 
of my little finger, remorselessly eating its way into her 
brain. If it is allowed to go on unchecked it will do its 
fatal work. The only way to check it is to remove it. 
That is a rare and dangerous experiment, which we read 
of, indeed, in old books, such as Sir Astley Cooper^s 
compilations of fifty years ago, but so rarely resorted to 
in practice that I did not know until to-day it was suc- 
successfully accomplished very recently in England.* 
There is scarcely a precedent to that operation. Now 
you understand the case. It remains for you to say 
'whether the patient shall go to the hospital and be oper- 
ated upon or remain here and die.^^ 

Would the operation, if successful, restore her to 
her mind and memory questioned Maxey, eagerly. 

It does not follow at all. The very matter that has 
confused and baffled all our calculations so long is the 

♦November 25, 1884, by Doctor Hug-hes Bennett, assisted by Mr. Godle, 
surg-eon to University College Hospital, at the Hospital for Epilepsy 
and Paralysis, London. 


72 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


complexity of the symptoms. Beside the epileptiform 
symptoms arising from the tumor (which, by the way, 
must have been well along in its dangerous work before 
the accident at the beach road) there are the psychical 
results of a curious mental disturbance. Perhaps the 
mental trouble was the consequence of the fright and 
would have been soon conquered but for the work of the 
tumor. All this is conjecture. The possible result re- 
mains to be seen. Shall I go on or not?^^ 

Two hours later Maxey gave his reply: 

Go on.^^ 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


73 


CHAPTEE VII. 

MAXEY MAKES A BEGIKiTIIirG. 

M AXEY read the letter in the fading light by the 
window, while the messenger who had brought 
the note to his rooms waited, cap in hand. It was as 
as follows: 

Hospital, December 30, 1884. 
The girl has spoken. Her name is Dye. Her father 
lives in Flood Street. Lamar. 

Short, epigramatic, to the point. 

There will be no answer, said Maxey. 

He heard the door close behind the retiring messenger 
and began to pace the floor, his hair erect and his necktie 
askew, while his impatient thoughts traveled over the 
wide range of possibilities which the information in the 
doctoFs letter seemed to open before him. Surely now 
he was on the verge of the most important revelations, 
and yet he hesitated for the moment how to act in the 
emergency. 

It was a question to him whether it were better at once 
to intrust this matter to those whose business it was to 
investigate crime, or to attempt that investigation by 
himself, alone and unaided. 

In the first case there would be the experience and ed- 
ucated acuteness of a craftsman plying his vocation. In 
the second case there would be the native shrewdness 
of a novice whose heart was fired with an enthusiasm. 


74 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


and whose mind was stimulated by an interest, for the 
intensity of which Maxey himself was sometimes, in the 
rare moments when he indulged in self-examination, at 
a loss to account. 

While the artist was still debating with himself this 
problem, Miss Maxey came in. She cried out almost 
before she had opened the door: 

Oh, Julian! have you heard from the hospital 

I have. Annette has spoken. She has told her 
father^s name.^^ 

Miss Maxey uttered a glad cry and somewhat astonished 
her brother by impulsively throwing her arms about his 
neck and kissing him. 

I am so glad I could cry,^^ she exclaimed. She 
will get well, Julian. She will get well in spite of every- 
thing! Tell me the rest at once. Who pushed her from 
the road? Why did he do it? Why didn't her father 
answer the advertisement?" 

My dear sister, you forget that she must still be a 
very sick girl. It is a terrible operation to survive. 
Doctor Lamar told me something about it. Ugh! They 
have to go into the very brain itself." 

Miss Maxey shuddered. 

Don't, Julian — please don't!" 

Forgive me. I forgot your sensitiveness. Let us 
come to other things. I want to know what you think 
about a certain matter that has been troubling me. 
Shall I put this new clew in the hands of the police, or 
shall I undertake to investigate it by myself?" 

By yourself in the name of all that leads to success. 
How many times have we been to the police? and what 
have they done for us? Julian, we have tried them. 
We know what they can do. Now try yourself, and if 
you fail 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL. 


75 


Yes/^ assented Maxey; I fail?"^ 

Why, then we shall see what / can do/^ 

This was so good a joke that both of them — so ignorant 
are we of that which even a few days may bring forth — 
both of them laughed. 

Still I think you are right, Ellen. Our private 
affairs have been sufficiently discussed in the public 
prints already. It is about time that we again relapsed 
into obscurity. The police includes the press. That is 
my first objection, and that decides me. I will go on 
alone — at least till I encounter something that looks too 
big for me to cope with. Yes, Vll do that, and 1^11 begin 
at once.^^ 

So Julian Maxey, the artist, putting on his outer gar- 
ments, set forth from his lodgings, in the gathering 
dusk of a December evening, to begin the unravelling of 
a very tangled skein. 

^^Dye! Dye! I am very positive I never heard that 
name before, he said to himself, as he went along. 

It is hardly probable that there is more than one 
family of that name in the city.^^ 

To assure himself of this fact, as well as to save him- 
self the trouble of undertaking a lengthy task in Flood 
Street, Maxey went into a store and consulted a directory. 
He was very much disappointed, though not a great 
deal surprised, when an attentive perusal of the names 
beginning with Dy showed him that no such person as 
Dye was recorded in this registry. The possibility of 
Lamarrs having made a mistake occurred to him and led 
him to devise some curious combinations of letters which 
he thought might be susceptible of a similar pronuncia- 
tion. But his success was no better than before. Digh, 
Dygh, Dey, and similar barbarous expedients, met with 


76 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


the same disheartening fate. Clearly there was nothing 
to do but to plunge into Flood Street and question the 
inhabitants. 

Fortunately, this was not an extensive avenue, but it 
made up in the density of its population what it lacked 
in length. There was more humanity here to the square 
foot than in ten streets out of any average dozen in the 
city. It was a cross street stretching between two 
brilliantly-lighted thoroughfares, easy of access and not 
a dangerous neighborhood, but pervaded with a general 
air of dilapidation and thronged with a most hetero- 
geneous collection of people. 

Cheap lodging-houses,^^ thought Maxey, as his 
glance wandered along the fronts of the dingy brick 
structures. 

Truly, I have undertaken a serious task. I may as 
well begin at the first house and go through in order. I 
shall never find out anything by random queries. 

Maxey did not at all overestimate the magnitude of 
his undertaking. If he had been on an ordinary errand 
or in an ordinary mood he would have retired in disgust 
ere he was half through. He rang at least two-thirds of 
the bells in the street and followed each ring with a 
more or less tedious inquiry into the personnel of the in- 
mates of that house before he met with an encouraging 
response. At the door of Ho. 40 he put the usual 
question to an overgrown urchin, who answered his sum- 
mons and received the customary reply: 
such person here, sir.^^ 

^^Sure 

am sure,^^ said the boy, ^‘‘but I will ask pa if you 
say so.'^'’ 

Pa was a small, wiry man with a sly face, who came 


THE FACE OF JEtOSENFEL, 


7 ? 


up from the basement wiping his mouth on his sleeve 
when the overgrown urchin called to him. He looked 
at Maxey with no small degree of curiosity while the 
artist repeated his inquiry. 

I am looking for a man named Dye.^^ . 

Well, sir, you won^t find him here. What did you 
want with him?^^ 

In view of the fact that he does not live here,^^ re- 
turned Maxey sharply, I don^t see what ditference it 
makes to you.^^ 

Nobody by that name lives here, true enough, but 
iihere are two rooms let out in that name on my upper 
floor. That is why I asked. 

^^Oh, that is why you asked? Very well, sir; let me 
see the landlord at once. And pray tell him that my 
business is pressing. 

The sly man surveyed Maxey with increasing curiosity 
and answered in a confidential tone. Well, sir, you 
see the landlord. What can I do for you 
^^IsnT there a place where I can speak to you pri- 
vately, without fear of being overheard ?” 

To be sure there is!^^ exclaimed the sly man, with 
great alacrity. Come right in.^^ 

In a minute or two Maxey was closeted in an unpre- 
tentious parlor with the landlord. The artist began by 
taking a card from his pocket and passing it across the 
eenter-table. The sly man seized upon it with avidity 
and devoured it. 

Oh, yes; Maxey — artist. Happy to meet you, Mr. 
Maxey. My name is Belfry.^"' 

Mr. Belfry, said Maxey, after a momentary delib- 
eration, during which he had keenly scrutinized the 
landlord's face, come here on important business. 


78 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEH 


and business which is quite as private and confidential 
between you and me as it is important. I desire infor- 
mation, and for it I shall pay liberally/^ 

Evidently the. artist had made a felicitous beginning. 
There was no mistaking the radiance that lighted up the 
sly man^s face at the mention of the last essential detail. 

Oh, don^t mention it, sir! If I can be of any serv- 
ice to you. Belfry is your man.^^ 

Thank you. Now, I will be explicit. I want to 
know all about this lodger of yours who calls himself 
Dye — every possible detail connected with him; but I 
do not want him to know that I have made any inquiries 
conccirning him. I desire to keep my interest in this 
matter entirely to myself.'’^ 

The sly man^s face visibly elongated at this announce- 
ment. 

In the first place, went on the artist, who is Mr. 

Dyer 

May I be blessed if I wouldn^t give a trifie to know 
that myself. .But judging from what I have seen of 
him, and of the people who inquire after him, he is a 
pretty curious and mysterious sort of individual.''^ 

What do you mean by the people who inquire after 
himr 

The habitual, sly look became a shade slyer. 

Well, you, for instance. There has been nobody 
else to speak of, with one exception, which don^t mat- 
ter, and never mind, for as that was confidential be- 
tween me and her, I am mum. But speaking to you 
now, sir, I may say, that a man giving his name as 
Leander Dye came to this house one morning something 
over three weeks ago and wanted to hire rooms. But 
being that there was that about the looks of this man 


THE FACE OF BOSEFFEL. 


79 


that made me think of back rents that never could be 
collected, and being that Belfry is a poor man and must 
live, I said at once to this shabby gentleman that I was 
not looking for transients, and if he wanted to come 
here I should require three months^ rent in advance. 
He gave me such a start then that I haven^t got over it 
yet, for he draws out a roll of bills as big as my fist and 
counts out the money at once. That^s the first I knew 
of that individual. He took the rooms at sight, and I 
dusted out and he moved up a couple of trunks, and I 
did^nt see no more of him for two days.”^^ 

Was he alone 

Pretty much. Only he had a woman with him/^ 

Was she young or old?^^ 

Couldn^t say; she wore a veil. He called her his 
daughter. Perhaps she was. Belfry is still undecided 
about that. He has kept a lodging house long enough 
to know 5%-canery when he sees it. I think I may re- 
mark that of Belfry fair and candid. I would mention 
that this woman wore a veil that concealed her features; 
that she got out of a ^bus at the door and went straight 
up to her rooms. Hobody got a good look at her, 
though divers persons to my knowledge tried. All I 
can tell you about that personage, Mr. Maxey, is that 
she wore the clothes of a female and was of a melancholy 
disposition.^^ 

How do you know that?^^ 

Because the partitions are not over thick, and the 
lodger in the next room heard her crying. 

Is that all he heard 

You are surprised, Mr. Maxey, at that lodgePs stu- 
pidity. So was I. The man was an ass. Why, he 
didnT even take the trouble to put his ear to the wall. 


80 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


When I talked with him about it afterwards and ex- 
pressed my feelings plainly in a pitying smile, he could 
not see it even then. ^ You don^t know what youVe 
missed/ says I. ^Don^t want to/ says he. ^ If I got 
out of bed to listen every time I heard a woman squall, I 
ghouldn^t sleep at all. AVomen are always crying.^ 

‘■‘^AVell, and what became of this man Dye?^^ 

As I was telling you, Mr. Maxey, he was invisible 
for two days, and then one night I met him coming 
down stairs with the key of his door in his hand. ^ Mr. 
Belfry,^ he says, ^business calls me out of town ^ — them 
were his very words — ^ My daughter has taken her op- 
portunity to go and visit friends of hers in the city. 
Unfortunately she went away in a hurry, and I forgot 
two things: to leave the key to the rooms with her or t(» 
give her any money. ^ And thereupon he handed me the 
key and fetched out of his pocket this very identical bill 
which I shows you now, Mr. Maxey, and went his ways. 

Mr. Belfry passed over for the artistes scrutiny a clean;i 
new twenty-dollar bill. 

This I was to give to the woman should she come 
back in his absence. But as you have gathered, I guess, 
I have never set eyes on either of them from that day to 
this. Which, if I do say it, in the estimation of Belfry 
has all the ear markings of 5%-canery on the face of it.^^ 

^^Mr. Belfry, you referred to another inquirer after 
Mr. Dye. Did I understand you it was a woman 
Very like, Mr. Maxey. Do you know her?” 

^^Well,” returned Maxey in a non-committal way^ 
•^what if I do?” 

The landlord's left eye closed and opened in a sugges* 
tive manner. 

^^Name begins with F— eh? Pretty well up? Some^ 
thing of a stunner for looks?” 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEE 81 

Maxey^s blank face almost caused the sly landlord to 
smile, but he bit his lip and went on: 

^^Oh, well, if you don^t come from her, I shouldn't 
feel at liberty to speak about a confidential matter, oi 
course. That wouldnT be proper — not unless I felt and 
believed that I was working in a good cause. A man^s 
conscience might sometimes lead him to do something 
which, generally speaking, he mightnT be anxious to 
do.^^ 

Maxey deliberately took a ten-dollar bill from his 
pocket and placed it on the table. 

^^You are working in the best of causes,'’^ he said. 

Let us know all about the lady. I know I am tres- 
passing on your valuable time, Mr. Belfry, and I simply 
want to show you that I do not mean to overlook th(^ 
fact that time is money. 

Oh, donT mention it, Mr. Maxey. I shouldnT 
think of charging you anything for my little trouble. 
Only I would like to feel sure that you are on the right 
side and that all is confidential between us.'^^ 

Best assured of all this, Mr. Belfry.'^'' 

The sly landlord's glance rested abstractedly on the 
bank-note on the table. He seemed to have entirely for- 
gotten its presence. 

The word of a gentleman ought to be enough for 
me, Mr. Maxey, and I Avill conceal nothing. Within 
the last three weeks a certain mysterious female has rang 
at my bell at least four times. She always comes in 
the night, pretty late, alone and with a dowdy shawl on 
and a good, thick veil over her face. But donT think 
I^m an id jet, Mr. Maxey. After being in the lodging-’ 
house business for ten years I am used to shy-canerj — a 
little. She’s no servant-girl, for people like her can’< 


82 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEH 


pick up the ways of servant-girls so very easy, and they 
only mince the matter when they try to pull the wool 
over the eyes of so old a bird as Belfry/^ 

The sly landlord chuckled and continued: 

First two times she acted nervous and only came to 
the door, and seemed to be covering up her real voice. 
The next two times she was nervouser, but she came in. 
The last time she got a little scared at her own boldness, 
and left a letter to be delivered to this man. Dye, imme- 
diately on his return, to save herself the trouble of call- 
ing again, she said.^^ 

A sealed letter?" 

^^Oho! of course; of course, Mr. Maxey. Don^t 
think she would tell Belfry any of her business. Oh, 
no! She was mighty particular about that; but she 
brought me this envelope all sealed, and directed in as 
pretty a little hand, as nice as you please." 

I suppose," began Maxey, hesitatingly, ^‘1 suppose 
it would be scarcely justifiable for us to open that 
letter!" 

The landlord responded promptly: 

^^Oh, no; certainly not. And besides it — itwouldn^t 
do you any good. I think, in fact, I — I kinder guess 
whaFs in that letter." 

^ ^ Guess ? How ? I donT understand you ?" 

The sly landlord winked so profusely that he actually 
succeeded in stimulating Maxey^s limited knowledge of 
human depravity into a comprehension of the situation. 

Oh, I see. You mean you have already opened the 
letter." 

^^The letter is just as good as ever it was," returned 
Mr. Belfry evasively. It is sealed up as good as be- 
fore, but a man keeping an humble lodging-house canTv, 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 


83 


afford to countenance any underhandedness, you know. 
I like to know the nature of any mail I^m carrying. 
Belfry is cautious, or he^s nothing/^ 

Maxey smothered his secret contempt and smiled. 

^^Well,^^ he questioned, ^^and what did the letter 
say?^" > 

^^The letter said, replied Mr. Belfry, marking off the 
words on the tips of the fingers of a not superlatively 
clean hand, ^^the letter said: ^ ^Leander Dye — Come to 
me in the evening at l^^’o. 16 Livingston Street. Come 
for your own interests, and fail to come at your peril. I 
have some money for you. The sister.^ That was the 
only signature. What do you think of that?^^ 

Maxey was silent. 

^^As for me,^^ went on the sly landlord, ^^all these 
circumstances look queer. 

^^What did Mr. Dye leave in his room?^^ 

He left two trunks, locked, and nothing in them 
but old clothes; one of them women^s and the other 
men^s. There warnT muoAifinnerey, His rent ain’t up 
for over two months, you understand.” 

I understand. What sort of a looking man is Mr. 
Dye?” 

Belfry’s notion of it is, that he’s some very badly 
run down parson. Belfry may be wrong, but that’s the 
way he sizes up L. Dye. He might have been enjoying 
himself too much and the congregation got down on 
him. It’s my experience, Mr. Maxey, after years in the 
lodging-house line, that most of the reverses of this 
world can be traced, more or less direct, to s/^y-canery. 
If a man’s down and you go hunting around in his 
records for the reason for it, forty to one you’ll run 
against a piece of shy somewhere, and bigger rather 


84 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


than littler, generally, too; that^s Belfry^s ultima- 
tum/^ 

The sly landlord might have moralized for half an 
hour if the impatient Maxey had not interrupted him. 

I understand all about that. But what I am after 
now is Mr. Dye. Can you tell me the exact date of his 
coming and his disappearance?^^ 

Mr. Belfry referred to a greasy pocket diary. 

He came on December. 7th, Mr. Maxey, and he went 
on December 9th. 

Maxey^s hair rose at once, but he controlled himself 
and went on: 

Very well, Mr. Belfry. I now have a proposition to 
make to you — one that may prove exceedingly profitable 
to yourself. If you will by hook or crook — gentle means 
if possible, forcible means if necessary — ^bring that Mr. 
Dye to my rooms the day he sets foot within this house 
again; or failing to do that, keep him a prisoner until 
I can be sent for. If you can do this I will reward you 
most liberally. Meantime I shall probably see you again 
very soon.^^ 

Maxey, having transacted his business, arose to go. 
The landlord's eye rested abstractedly on the ten-dollar 
bill lying on the table, but again he did not seem to 
see it. 

Belfry is always glad to accommodate a gentleman, 
he said. ^^I want no pay for what I do. Dll see that 
the rascal is kept for you or brought to you for the sake 
of helping a gentleman in trouble. It will be all right, 
fir; trust Belfry. If he ever sets his foot in this house 
again you will know it if you are at home within thirty 
minutes. 

And be sure,^^ cautioned Maxey, that he sees me 
before he reads that letter. 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEH 


85 


The sly landlord chuckled and delivered himself of a 
comprehensive wink. 

^^Fm not an idjet/^ he murmured^ whatever I am, 
and I^m somewhat used to shy, Mr. Maxey. Shy for 
shorty you understand. 

By the way/^ suggested Maxey, turning almost on 
the door-step as a thought occurred to him, of course 
you donT know who lives at 16 Livingston Street 

Oh, donT I though? I may mention that Belfry 
looked that up at once. She's a widow, and she's very 
rich and very stingy. Her name is Forsythe." 

There was a ringing in the artist's ears as he went out 
into the lighted street again. All the way back to Balla- 
voine place four little words of the sly landlord were 
sounding in his mind: 

Her name is Forsythe." 

Was it possible that this was the lady whom Lamar 
was to marry! 


86 


THE FACE OF BOBEHFEL. 


CHAPTEE VIIL 

A NEW LEASE OF LIFE. 

T hey made an arm-chair of themselves by inter- 
locking their hands and arms, Maxey and Doctor 
Lamar, to carry her up the long flights of stairs to her 
new home, this pale, shy girl whom the carefully- 
driven carriage had just brought to the door of the house 
at the end of the quiet street. 

How different from the ominous roll of the departing 
ambulance was the coming of this jaunty carriage! 
When Miss Maxey had listened to the first from the 
parlor window, high above the street, her sympathetic 
heart felt as if a chill breath from the icy river had 
touched it. Now she waited at the top of the stairs with 
a rose in her hair. 

Modern science had alone made this arrival possible. 
For the second time within the short period of a few 
weeks brain surgery had won another brilliant victory. 
But there was that about this second and more recent 
miracle which not even Lamar himself could explain. 
That the result had exceeded his most daring hopes he 
had acknowledged, at least to Maxey. To rescue from 
the grave a trembling paralytic victim, who realizes full 
well his doom, and himself gives the word which 
authorizes the dangerous operation as his last fearful 
chance, is great indeed; but to pour a flood of fullest, 
freest light into the darkness worse than death that 
enshrouds an intellect is something so far greater that it 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEE 


87 


rises at once out of the region of human achievement 
into that unfathomed realm of nature^s mysteries where 
the wisest are as children. No. Lamar was too scien- 
tific a man to believe this triumph all his own; too 
honest to claim it as his own, but nevertheless the world 
would count it his. Henceforth he would be great 
among his fellows. 

The victim of the cliff road was still in a very sensi- 
tive and pecarious state. . Her memory of even recent 
events might fail her at times in the most alarming man- 
ner, but her pulse was normal, her appetite good, and 
every day would show a change for the better — every day 
away from the hospital, surrounded by sympathetic 
faces, kind voices and the quiet of a home. So they all 
believed. So had the carriage come. 

This was scarcely the same being who once before had 
been carried by these four strong arms from the street 
to the artistes rooms. That form had been submissive 
and leaden. This shrank in maiden modesty from un- 
due contact. That face had been distorted with the 
hideous nightmare of perpetual fear. This glowed with 
all the sweet, shy, womanly emotions that rise in the 
breast of a young girl whom necessity compels to cling 
in this bold fashion to strangers of the other sex. She 
obeyed their instructions to put her arms about their 
necks with a trembling reluctance that was too spon- 
taneous to be counterfeit. I know not what philosophic 
Doctor Lamar thought, but to Julian Maxey the trem- 
ulous touch of that almost transparent little hand was a 
vague revelation of the possibility of a joy to come 
greater than any he had ever known. 

It was toilsome, climbing the long flights of stairs in 
this slow, steady fashion, but it seemed to Maxey, in his 


88 


TEE FACE OF BOSEJSFEL. 




present extatic frame of mind^ with a burden such as 
this to carry, he would willingly have kept on mounting 
forever. As for the palpitating burden herself, she was 
troubled with more sentiments than one. This removal, 
her destination, her new friends, were so many mys- 
teries to her. The truth had purposely been kept from 
her for a specific reason, and she had been informed 
only that she was to be taken to a more secluded place 
than the hospital, where she would be surrounded by 
brighter infiuences and would get well the quicker. 
Notwithstanding her weakness and her trepidation at 
finding herself in the arms of the strange men, she was 
seen to glance with an expression of interest and curi- 
osity upon the house and the entrance into which she was 
being taken. In spite of Doctor Lamarrs assurance to 
the contrary, Maxey hoped that she would recognize the 
place and its inmates without a word to aid her. This 
was the object of his silence to* her. It partook of the 
nature of an experiment. 

Miss Maxey, waiting for them in the corridor, held 
the door open for them to pass in. The girl looked at 
her in a mute, questioning manner, without a shadow of 
recognition, that thoroughly disappointed the artistes 
sister. The doctor^’s strong tones were the first to break 
the silence. 

These are your new friends. Miss Dye. Here your 
home is to be as long as you care to make it. From the 
time you expressed a desire not to be taken back to your 
father they resolved to bring you here.^^ 

They are very good to me,^^said a faint voice. But 
do they know that I am a poor girl without money to 
pay them for their care?’^ 

^^They know everything that is necessary/^ 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


89 


Miss Maxey had drawn a great chair in front of the 
fire and had made it doubly easy with pillows. The 
comfortable back chamber was in a state of order and 
neatness wonderful to behold. Everything was in readi- 
ness for the return of the patient. They placed her in 
the chair, and Maxey sighed as the clinging hand left its 
warm nestling place on his neck. Then they all stood 
back from her and she looked about, first at the strange 
faces of the artist and his sister, and then at the various 
objects which went to ’make up the character of the 
room. Her glance wandered to the windows, with the 
fine prospect far away and the ice-clad river underneath, 
to the piano, the pictures, the book-cases, even to the 
little white bed in the alcove room, the curtains of which 
had been purposely drawn back that she might see it. 

Maxey could not conceal his disappointment. It was 
the glance of a stranger. But there was another senti- 
ment in the artistes mind, even stranger than this. In 
the anxious days when the face which now looked up 
from the pillows in the easy-chair lay on the bed in the 
alcove room, Maxey had often watched it with an insuf- 
ferable feeling of regret and pity at his heart. The deli- 
cate outline of the oval face and the classic features, 
despite the unnatural expression which distorted the 
countenance and robbed it of its chief charm had whis- 
pered a sorrowful story of a lost radiance that would have 
dazzled the eyes of the beholder. And now, as the artist 
saw this face again, lit up with the light of reason and 
changing with the varying thoughts, deadly pale and 
hollow though it was, he realized, with the unerring in- 
stinct of a student of the pleasing in nature, that the 
reality was even stranger than he had pictured it, and he 
said to himself: 


90 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


She will be beautiful/^ 

There was a deeply troubled look in the dark eyes, as 
they finished the momentary survey of the apartment 
and came back to rest on Miss Maxey^s face. The pale 
lips murmured something Avhich sounded to her hearers 
like, I do not understand. 

At any rate. Dr, Lamar took it upon himself to say 
again: 

These are your friends. Miss Maxey and her brother, 
who took care of you in your illness. You are to stay 
here with them as long as you like, to make your home 
with them, if you will, until you are well, strong and 
able to go where you desire. 

Charity whispered the voice, a slight color coming 
into the face. Dr. Lamar understood the delicate shrink- 
ing of a sensitive nature and feared that it might have a 
tendency to retard her convalescence. The unscrupu- 
lous man lied: 

^^IN'ot in the least. Your father has secured them to 
take charge of you during his absence. He was obliged 
to go away.^^ 

^^He is not my father, she returned in a clearer 
voice. The sound of that voice made Maxey^s heart beat 
faster. The accents and intonation were a revelation. 
They could have been the product alone of refinement 
and education. 

A joyous thought seemed to arise suddenly in the poor 
girFs mind, a thought that made her eyes glisten and her 
breath come quick. She looked eagerly first into 
Maxey^s face and then into the face of his sister. Some- 
thing seemed to tremble on her lips, but she forbore to 
utter it. The artist, who had been watching her every 
movement, started forward. 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


91 


Say that you know us! that you recognize this place! 
that you remember to have been here before !^^ 

The rising color suddenly faded from the pale face, 
and to the astonishment of everybody she said: 

You are my brother^ and you my sister! You have 
brought me home!^^ 

Maxey^s heart sank. Was her mind wandering? Her 
eager glance encountered their blank and amazed looks, 
and the trembling joy faded at once from her face. 

Ellen spoke up quickly: 

Let it be so, dear Annette. We will be brother and 
sister to you henceforth. 

^^Then you are not really so? E'o, no; I should have 
known better.-’^ 

And you donT recognize the room at all?^^ Maxey 
said in a tone of regret. 

The dark eyes looked about in increasing perplexity. 
She said at last, falteringly: 

^‘1 cannot say, but in my forgotten childhood, which 
I have tried so hard to remember . 

‘^1 donT mean that,'^ interrupted Maxey. mean 
since you have been sick.^^ 

The dark eyes turned toward him in wild amazement. 

Was I not taken to the hospital ?^^ 

You were brought here. You were placed in that 
little bed there. My sister attended you, and so you re- 
mained for weeks. How, donT you remember it just in 
a faint, vague way, I mean,^^ returned Maxey. 

The dark hair moved on the pillow as the head shook. 

It is all strange to me,^^ she said. I must have 
been very sick.^^ 

Doctor Lamar looked triumphantly at Maxey, who was 
evidently disappointed. 


92 


TEE FACE OF BOSENFEL, 


I can remember faces faintly^ coming and going, as 
in a dream/^ 

^^Eeminiscences of the hospital after the operation/^ 
commented Doctor Lamar in an undertone. 

Maxey sighed. 

I must give it up/^ he said. You were right. 

The physician did not reply. His attention was taken 
by the patient. A gray pallor was creeping into her 
face. Her eyes closed wearily. 

^^Ho more of this/^ he said authoritatively. ^^This 
conversation has been too much for her. Get her to 
bed. Miss Maxey. 

^^Butwehave found out nothing, expostulated the 
artist. ^^It is already two weeks and you have allowed 
nobody to question her. Meanwhile we do not know 
how imperative for the ends of justice it is that we 
should have this crime explained.'’^ 

Lamar looked at the artist in stern silence for a mo- 
ment, and then with a sudden movement, seized him, as 
if he had been an unruly school-boy, by his ear, and led 
him from the room. When they were in the back par- 
lor he released him, and said with a sternness that was 
not all assumed: 

Do you want to undo all that has been done? The 
girl remains here only upon condition that you obey her 
physician^s orders. Those orders are that you shall ab- 
solutely refrain from questioning her, or even hinting of 
the past in any way, until you have my permission. I 
will tell you plainly, it may not be for weeks. 

So long!^^ said Maxey in consternation. ^^You 
know I would be the last to do anything which would 
tend to her injury. But it does seem a shame! By 
Jove, it does seem a shame 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, 


93 


He began to pace the floor with his hands behind his 
back. 

have my suspicions/^ he continued. you 

knew them you would be as impatient as I ani.^"^ 

I doubt it/^ returned Lamar_, but by and by you 
will tell them to me and we shall see. Before that,, how- 
ever^ I want to settle your mind on one point. Mrs. 
Forsythe does not know, and never heard of, this man 
Dye. It was utterly ridiculous, of course, that she 
should, but to satisfy you I have asked her.'^^ 

^^But it is she who lives at 16 Livingston Street 
And it is also her servants who live there exclaimed 
Lamar, impatiently. 

Any reference to his intended bride always had a de- 
pressing effect upon the physician. He folded his hands 
behind him, turned his back on Maxey and looked 
gloomily out of the window at the river. The artisi 
approached him and laid a friendly hand on his arm. 

Old fellow, I have offended you.-"^ 

^^hTothing of the sort,^^ returned Lamar, ^^you did 
simply right. How could you know that the suspicion 
of the lodging-house keeper in Flood Street was pre- 
posterous? You never saw her.-^^ 

Maxey was well aware of that. If there was any mat- 
ter on earth in which he felt he was not in his friend^a 
confidence it was this matter of his engagement with the 
widow Forsythe, and yet his esteem and regard for the 
man were too great to permit him to neglect an oppor- 
tunity, such as this, to counsel him. 

Eustace, he began hesitatingly, I wish I crnld 
feel that you wouldn^t think that I was presuming «n 
your friendship. 

Lamar turned toward him puzzled and wondering. 


94 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


Why, what is all this, Julian?^^ 

^‘It is my extravagant imagination, I suppose; but I 
can^t get over the impression that your approaching 

marriage is not ; well, that you do not look upon it 

as you ought/^ 

Lamar turned his head away very quickly. 

Mrs. Forsythe is a lady,'’^ he said in a low voice. 

She is very handsome. She is a very talented woman. 
She has a fortune, and I have been called a thousand 
times a ^ lucky dog!^ 

^^All this is much, Eustace, but do you really love 

herr 

Lamar made an impatient gesture. 

You don^t expect me to talk sentiment, I hope?^^ 

Maxey sighed. 

ThaFs the trouble I was afraid of. You are too 
much wrapped up in your science, and you imagine you 
don^t believe in these things. But I tell you, Lamar, 
they are just as real and essential as anything else in our 
lives.” 

Lamar attempted to force a tone of jocularity. 

When did you experience your last great passage, 
Maxey?” 

You know I never had one. But I believe in it. I 
know it, because I have seen it.” 

Oh, indeed!” LamaFs words were dry and short, 
but somehow he looked much more distressed than in- 
different. 

Maxey went on earnestly: Eustace, it has been your 
province on many important occasions to give me advice, 
and you must acknowledge that in however bad grace I 
accepted it, I generally acted on it. I can^t expect you 
to take mine, but I am none the less going to advise you. 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEH 


95 


If you marry Mrs. Forsythe for her money you will regret 
it all the days of your life.''^ 

Lamar turned upon him almost angrily: Who told 
you that, Maxey?^^ 

The artist replied a little stiffly: 

Nobody. I inferred it from what you said. You 
do not love her. Don^t marry her.^^ 

^^Love her? No. But what is more to the point I 
esteem and respect her. That is enough. Maxey, this 
is not an agreeable subject to me. Don^t let us refer to 
it again. My mother has set her heart on this match, 
and even if I were convinced of its unadvisability I could 
not honorably retreat now. If there was a time when 
I had a little romantic feeling for Mrs. Forsythe, and if 
time and a better acquaintance with her have enabled 
me to overcome it, why, that is my own affair. If I was 
weak enough or foolish enough to take a hasty, impul- 
sive step in an all-important matter, a step which I have 
since had reason to regret, that is my affair, too. If I 
have said to you that which I have told and shall tell to 
no other person upon earth, it is because I know you too 
well to believe that you would betray my confidence. 
Julian, you will not mention that I have said this much 

to you to a living soul — not even to 

He stopped and averted his glance and went on again. 
Not even to your nearest and dearest friend. Now, let 
us change the subject. 

Maxey looked at his friend regretfully. Lamar 
coughed and drummed on the piano. 

^^Well,^^ said the physician, at length, ^^you were 
saying that you had your suspicions. Whom do you 
suspect 

I suspect that man Dye. Isn^t it somewhat remark- 


THE FACE OF R08EHFEL. 


^^6 

able that he disappeared from the house in Flood Street 
the very same day that this crime was committed on the 
cliff-road?’^ 

It is worth noting, at least. What do the police 
think?” 

I have not employed the police at all in this matter. 
I do not propose to as long as it is possible to get along 
without them.” 

That is very foolish of you. Suppose this man Dye 
should return ” 

I have fixed that with the landlord. I shall know 
It in half an hour.” 

Good!” exclaimed Lamar. ^^But I am afraid he 
won’t.” 

So am I,” said Maxey. 

Lamar looked out of the window at the vast white 
^heet of ice beneath which the tide fiowed on unseen. 
A^fter a little he turned again, put his hand on his 
friend’s shoulder and said, gravely: 

Maxey, we must cause the newspapers to lie for us. 
We must give it out that the girl is dead; that the ope- 
ration killed her. If there is anything in thi^ beyond a 
vulgar wayside robbery, we must put the rascals off their 
guard by making them feel at their ease.” 

Eustace, what are you thinking of? Your reputa- 
tion ” 

^^My reputation!” interrupted Lamar, with a momen- 
tary bitterness. Well,” he went on, in a more guarded 
tone, ^Hhat will take care of itself. My part in this 
matter will be known well enough when the time comes. 
I am not dependant on the newspapers. However, I am 
not sure that my idea is not a wild one. Can this be 
done?” 




THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 97 

Yes. I think so. The manager of the Herald is a 
friend of mine. He will print it and everybody will 
copy it.""^ 

The sooner you see him, then, the better. 

I will see him at once/^ said Maxey, 


98 


TUB FACE OF BOSEFFKL. 


CHAPTEE IX. 

WHO SHE WAS? 


T LAST!^^ cried Maxey. He had been putting 



Jr\ the finishing touches to a sketch in the light from 
the bay-window in the front room^ and threw down his 
crayon to utter this exclamation. Doctor Lamar had 
just told him that the time had come to question An- 


nette. 


But in saying this/^ the physician continued, I 
want you distinctly to understand that she is still in 
a very delicate state. This examination must be con- 
ducted judiciously and it must stop at the first symp- 
toms on her part of undue agitation or excitement. At 
the same time I am going to be perfectly frank with you, 
Julian, and confess that I am more afraid of you than 
of the strength of the reminiscences. This wild-eyed 
exhilaration, in which you occasionally indulge, is as com- 
municative to a nervous temperament as the measles. 
Your principal fault is that your pulse rises too quickly. 
That will do now. They^re coming. 

There was a knock at the door. 

Coming echoed Maxey. ^^Why didn^t you tell 
me so at once?^^ 

His chief trouble at this moment was his hair and his 
necktie, the first of which had arisen in a combative 
manner, while the second somehow had arrived at a de- 
cidedly demoralized condition. Maxey had time only to 
make one or two frantic dashes at each when the door 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL. 


99 


leading from the little vestibule to the back parlor was 
pushed open and a playful voice said; 

May we come in?^^ 

The artist was a trifle confused by the suddenness of 
the arrival and blushed like a girl, all of which several' 
symptoms on his part amused the philosophic physician 
very much. But Maxey was an artist, and he soon for- 
got his embarrassment in his admiration of the picture 
that was presented to him. The two girls stood in the 
door-way with their arms about each other. Miss Dye 
had already regained her color, and her eyes sparkled 
with the return of health. They were about of a size, 
and both were dark, but there was enough of a difference 
in their faces still to make an effective contrast. Even 
Lamar, who was not an artist, was aware that his heart 
was beating a trifle faster; but, like most of his deeper 
emotions, this was a fact known only to himself. 

Shall we sit here on the sofa?^^ Ellen asked. 

^^Sofa? No. Here, here! Let her sit here by the 
window, cried Maxey, where she can see the river. 

Why, the ungrateful rascal already has eyes for only 
one, and she, except from a medical point of view, the 
least interesting,^^ thought Lamar. 

Still he ought to have been content, for this fore- 
thought of Maxey^s permitted him to take a chair near 
his own preference. 

Maxey sat beside his easel in a position from which he 
could look into the faces about him. 

Annette was just beginning to get sufficiently used to 
her new friends and her new home to be easy and natu- 
ral in their presence. Her shyness had been wonderful, 
and it had taken a long time to conquer it. But now 
she sat easily and gracefully by the window^ a faint 


100 


TEE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


smile on her parted lips, enjoying the boundless pros- 
pect. Maxey gazed upon her with undisguised admira- 
tion. 

You are looking so much better to-day. Miss Dye,^^ 
he said in a burst of enthusiasm. 

I am glad to hear that,^^ she replied, with a look of 
pleasure. It makes me begin to hope that the time is 
not far away when I shall be strong and able to go to 
work at something and in some faint way repay you all 
for your great kindness. 

She glanced furtively at Maxey^s sketch. The artist 
observed the look. 

You like art?^^ 

In my poor way, yes; but I know so little about it. 
They were foolish enough once to fancy I had a talent 
for drawing. I learned what I could from books. A 
good lady who had been visiting my mother noticed some 
little sketches I had made, and she was so pleased with 
them that she promised to give me lessons. She was 
very kind, was she not? Perhaps I might have learned 
to make a pleasing picture, but I lost her as I lost every 
friend I ever had.^^ 

A painful expression drove away all at once the bright- 
ness and animation in Annette^s countenance. She 
turned her head to hide her tears. This little scene 
filled Maxey with consternation, and even the loyal Ellen 
felt a momentary suspicion. The doctor alone remained 
perfectly calm. He spoke, and his rich, strong voice had 
‘a consolation for all three of his hearers: 

But this same lady afterward wrote you a letter, did 
she not?^^ 

^^A letter? No, sir.^^ 

Very recently, I mean!^^ 


THE FACE OF EOSEHFEL. 


101 


Annette instantly became pale. She spoke in a low 
voice and with an expression which gave them all a chill 
at the heart, for at that moment they saw the face which 
had looked forth from the little bed in the alcove room. 
Fortunately it was only the expression of an instant. If 
it had lasted longer Doctor Lamar would certainly have 
broken up the conference. But it was evidently only 
the transient result of the shock to a mind which finds 
itself suddenly brought face to face with a forgotten 
horror. 

Yes, yes,^^ she said in a faint voice. I remember 
it now. She wrote to me.^^ 

‘ ^ Her name was Hapgood?^^ continued the physician 
after a pause. 

She looked at him a little bewilderingly, and in some 
degree regained her color. 

I am surprised at your knowledge, but of course you 
know all about it. Why not? You have probably seen 

my She hesitated, and finally said: ^^Mr. Dye.'’'* 

The physician in his calm manner asked another ques- 
tion: 

Is there any reason why this Mrs. Hapgood should 
hate you?^^ 

Hate me? What a dreadful idea! She was the soul 
of kindness. I was so little to her, indeed, that I was 
quite sure she must have forgotten all about me. Ours 
was only the acquaintance of three days at the Somerset 
Hotel where my mother took me, and two years have 
passed since then.'’^ 

^^She is a very old lady,^^ put in Maxey. ^^Un- 
doubtedly that is the explanation. She forgot her, at 
least so much that the name Annette recalled nothing. 
It is perfectly possible. When you got the letter which 


102 


TEE FACE OF R08ENFEE 


you supposed came from her you thought it was very 
strange, but still you went to meet her on the beach 
road?"^ 

Annette looked into the artistes face and shuddered, 
but the tone in which she spoke was more the voice of 
desolation than of horror. 

My good, kind friends, it is due to you that I recall 
all this, however much it pains me. I have tried not to 
think of the past while I have been here, but it is too 
black a shadow ever to let me 

Said Maxey eagerly: When you have told the story 
once you need never refer to it again. 

I do not complain. It was my misfortune to be 
born under it. I do not wish to conceal anything; indeed, 
I thought this letter very strange, but I was so unhappy 
that anything was better than the suspense. I had 
nobody to advise me. If I was imprudent it was not 
wholly strange after the life I was leading. I got the 
letter in the morning, and at noon I had decided to go. 
I came to the hotel on the beach road just before sun- 
down. I had expected to find it just as I had seen it 
once before — full of people and stir. It was a shock to 
me to see it closed and deserted. It was very cold. At 
first I walked up and down the road, but after a while, 
becoming tired, I rested myself on a seat by the wayside. 
It grew dark very fast after the sun went down and my 
heart misgave me that I had done wrong to come. The 
ocean sounded so lonesome moaning way below me, and 
it awoke such a forlorn feeling in my heart that I believe 
I was foolish enough to cry, as I sat there, to think how 
miserable and friendless I was. What first brought me 
to myself was the realization that the tears were almost 
freezing on my cheeks and that it would soon be quite 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 


103 


dark. I started up and looked along the road. There 
had been but few passers^ but now I saw a man coming 
down on the side next to me, and I waited for him to 
pass. He was so muffled up that I could only see his 
eyes, and I thought he acted somewhat strangely. He 
surely saw me, but he turned his head away quickly 
when I looked at him, as though he did not wish to 
meet my glance. Then I began to realize what a danger 
I might be running alone at this hour in this deserted 
place. I watched him fearfully as he went on, and I 
saw him look around toward me once or twice, and 
fin^ lly he crossed over and came back again on the other 
side of the way. This really frightened me, but as 
he seemed to be going by I thought I would wait 
till he got past and then run for safety with all my 
might. I started out for this purpose, but I had run 
but a little way when I heard a sleigh coming very fast 
from the direction the man had gone — from the direc- 
tion of the city. I thought by the sound the horses 
must be running away. I stepped back to the wall to 
be out of harrn^s reach, but it was only a man, driving 
rapidly. It was not so dark that I could not see him. 
He wore one of those caps which let down over the face, 
with an oval slit for the eyes. Before he got to me he 
began to rein in the horses. They stopped so quickly 
that I hardly realized what was happening. He was out 
of the sleigh and coming toward me almost before I 
really knew it. I did not even then fully understand 
that I was the object of his attack, and when I did I 
had not the power to cry out. He seized me with ter- 
rible strength, putting a cold, globed hand over my eyes 
and mouth and forcing me backward across the wall. I 
was faint with fear and his glove pressed me so tightly 


104 


TEE FACE OF R08EEFBE 


that I could not breathe. I struggled to get my face 
free, but he held me too firmly. He pushed me down in 
the cold snow. He got my arms under his knees and 
hurt me terribly. Then I felt his free hand searching 
my pockets. The rest is all a blank to me. I must 
have lost my senses at that moment. I supposed I had 
a fever, for I awoke in the hospital with a strange dizzi- 
ness in my head.^^ 

Her voice ceased suddenly and each of the three 
listeners drew a sigh of relief. Even Lamar had averted 
his face lest she should see how interested he was. She 
alone was free from excitement. The associations 
aroused in her mind by her recollections seemed only to 
make her utterly sad and cast down. She did not need 
to tell them in so many words that her life had been 
very unhappy and unsatisfactory. 

Maxey was breathless to know what the cautious 
physician would do next. He was afraid he would think 
that Annette had dwelt long enough on gloomy things 
for one day. To his intense relief. Doctor Lamar 
seemed disposed rather to encourage her to talk. 

Yours was a narrow escape. Miss Dye,^^ he said, 
^^and one for which your friends must all be very grate- 
ful. 

The pathetic expression in the pale face deepened. 

My friends! All I have are with me here. I have 
no others, no, not one.^^ 

The tone was so forlorn and desolate that Miss Maxey^’s 
eyes filled with tears. 

Surely! surely! this cannot be P 
Ah, it seems strange to you, because your life has 
always been bright and happy. You cannot understand. 
Even in the little time I have been in your pleasant 


THE FACE OF B 08 ENFEL, 


105 


home that old life of mine has begun to seem like a 
dream. It comforted me so, to have escaped from it 
that I have done all I could to forget it.^^ 

But you must have had a good home and refining 
infiuences. That is betrayed in all that you say and do.'’^ 
Annette^s whole soul seemed to be in her reply: 

All that I have to be thankful for I owe to one sub- 
lime woman whose frail life stood between me and 
degradation and ignoronce, who put her very hearths 
blood into making me what I am 

She stopped abruptly, overcome with emotion. 

Your mother?'’^ suggested Ellen. 

^^Yes, yes, I shall always call her so! My mother! 
Forgive me for not having told you all about it before. 
But if you knew how it pained me to bring back the old 
associations and the old feelings you would not wonder at 
my silence. Just now I was trying to please myself with 
the delusion that it had gone forever.'’^ 

^^Ithas!^^ cried Maxey and his sister in one breath. 
Ellen crossed the room impulsively and kneeling on the 
fioor beside Annette^s chair took her hand in hers and 
comforted her like a sister. In a little time Annette 
was able to speak coherently. 

If I had not always been so sensitive and so bashful 
it would not have mattered so much; but it was so hard 
for me to make friends! I had always to wait for some- 
body else to take the initiative. And then when I met 
persons whom I believed I could have loved and trusted, 
as sure as that day came, the acquaintance was suddenly 
broken off and we were separated. 

Separated? By whom?^^ 

By — by Mr. Dye. He did not wish me to have 
friends. I am sure^ I hope I do not wrong him; but I 


106 


TEE FACE OF ROSEEFEE 


think so, because nothing disturbed him more than to 
find me talking with a stranger. My mother pitied my 
isolation and she often tried to interest in me companions 
of my own age, and then the information would come 
that we were to break up our little home again and go to 
some distant place to live. That is why I had no friends. 
We stayed so short a time in any city; we changed our 
living place so often! — I cannot say home — I never knew 
what that word really meant till I came here. But I am 
only mystifying you, my kind friends. I should tell you 
what I know of myself from the beginning. 

Way back, beyond all that I can really remember, 
there is a vague, imperfect sense of something different, 
which comes to me most vividly sometimes w'hen I am 
not trying to think of it. But my first distinct recollec- 
tion is of playing with my little rag doll at a window, 
very high up, looking out over the roofs. Mr. and Mrs. 
Dye were with me and I called them father and mother. 
I always was afraid of him and he avoided me, but I 
loved my mother with the strength of a double passion, 
I can dimly remember that at that time both of them 
were rather different in their looks from what they seemed 
in later years. Mr. Dye has changed greatly. He used 
to be very well dressed and careful of his appearance. 
That was before he took so greatly to drink. How he 
seems to have no care. My mother was pale, slight and 
sad. She wept so much when I first recollect her that 
her eyes were always red. Her husband made her very 
unhappy. He never used violence toward either of us. 
He rather seemed to pity us; but there is an unkindness 
that is quite as deep as the unkindness of hard words 
and blows He was a silent and moody man and was 
very little in the house. I noticed as soon as I was old 


THE FACE OF ROSEHFEE 


107 

enough to notice at all that he did not like to have me 
even look at him. I sometimes caught him watching 
me furtively, but as soon as he saw that I knew it he 
would turn away quickly. If it was not so absurd I 
should have believed he was afraid of me. And so my 
mother was a broken-hearted woman. But the less she 
had in common with her husband the more she devoted 
herself to me. She often told me that she lived only for 
me, and when I think how feeble she was and what a 
struggle existence was to her I cannot help believing she 
told the truth. She taught me all I know. She saved 
her pennies and went without clothes to buy me books. 
In the long days and evenings when we were entirely 
alone we read and studied together. We had to devise 
places to hide our literary treasures, far whenever he 
found a book he sold it and kept the money. More than 
once our entire little library, obtained at so much cost and 
pains, was missed by us in the morning. 

^^I should not have been unhappy but for the little 
knowledge of the world and its ways that my reading 
gave to me. It made me feel the degradation of my 
position. All the time my mother was becoming paler 
and feebler every day. Finally she took to her bed. I — 
I attended her.^^ 

It was with difficulty that Annette controlled herself 
sufficiently to go on. But her resolution conquered her 
natural emotion. She was even able to speak in a calm 
voice. 

Before she died she told me that I was not her child. 
It was a secret she could not carry away with her. She 
had often and often begged her husband to tell her who 
I was, but he never would. One night when I was not 
two years old Mr. Dye had placed me in her arms, and 


108 


THE FACE OF B08EHFEL. 




in a hurried and agitated manner had told her that I was 
to be their child thenceforth, and that we three were to 
begin traveling about the country the very next day. 
Before that time he had been very good to her, but some- 
how my coming estranged them. The gulf that began 
then has been widening between them ever since. He 
had loved her once, she said, and there she was breath- 
ing out her last breath in my arms, while he was away 
with degraded men, careless what became of her. He 
had at last frightened her by declaring that if she ever 
told anybody I was not their child it would bring him to 
the gallows. Then she believed that the secret must be 
terrible indeed, and for years she had not dared to ques- 
tion him again. 

was too weak,^ she said, ^to make any resistance 
then, but when you grew to be quite a girl, and I real- 
ized the great responsibility upon me to bring you up as 
I ought in the sight of God and man, I often on my 
knees begged and besought him to restore you to your 
parents, or at least tell me who you were. He only an- 
swered I do not know. Oh, but he was good to me 
once! If he comes now before I die and sees me, per- 
haps the sight of me lying so feeble here— for it is the 
same face, Annette, the same face, though changed, that 
he used to kiss so fondly in the old days — perhaps the 
sight may touch his heart and he will tell us, if I ask 
him, everything. So, Annette, I must not die yet. I 
feel strange. Arrange my pillows that I may sit up. I 
can hear better then, and the first sound of his footsteps 
on the stairs will drag me back from the very arms of 
death. ^ 

^^It was night, and everything in the house was still. 
I cried so I could hardly see. I lifted her up as she 


TBE FACE OF ROSEFFEL. 


109 


wished, and there she died, with her head turned, listen- 
ing for the step on the stair. When he came he found 
us both unconscious on the bed. Alas! mine was an un- 
consciousness that knew an awakening. I almost hated 
him for awaking me. Oh! how like a horrid dream it 
seems — this, that was only a few weeks agoP^ 

There were no longer tears in her eyes. Those dark 
orbs burned with a light that the physician did not like 
to see in them. 

Let us forget all this, my dear young lady,^^ he said. 
What happened after that?^^ 

After that was the little funeral attended by only us 
two. We sat in the carriage that followed her to the 
grave, strangers, as we had heen all our lives long.^^ 
^^The bruteP cried Miss Maxey. 

You Avrong him,^^ said Annette, quickly. He was 
not heartless. I never in all my life heard him speak a 
savage word to her. And in the carriage his grief was 
terrible to see! I never saw a man weep before. It 
frightened me. I tried to say something to console him. 
He silenced me Avith a terrible oath— the only time he 
ever spoke like that to me. Oh, Mr. Dye is a strange 
man! He seems always to be brooding over some ter- 
rible wrong. I have sometimes even wondered Avhether 
his mind Avas not unsettled. That was what made my 
life so unbearable. It was enough to feel the desolation 
of my mother^s death, but to have him always absent, 
or sitting in the same room, without a word, without a 
look for me, that was terrible! And still we moved 
about. I could not bear to remain shut up all the time, 
and one night despair gave me courage to throAV myself 
upon his mercy, to tell him my unhappiness and to beg 
him for a release. I thought if he could allow me to go 


ilO THE FACE OF BOSENFEL 

out to work as a servant in a family where I could earn 
my bread, even that would be better than this; for this 
was worse than death itself. He heard me out in aston- 
ished silence and averted his head to reply in a voice 
that trembled: ^ You are my daughter, Annette. The 
law makes me responsible for you until you are twenty- 
one. I must continue to take care of you.^ Then I 
told him, for the first time, that I knew his secret. I 
was not his daughter. If he did not let me go I should 
myself appeal for aid to some charitable person. The fact 
that we had just come back to the city, where I had met 
the kind lady, Mrs. Hapgood, made me think of her, 
and I spoke of her. He seemed utterly overwhelmed, and 
when I saw the strange pallor that my rash words 
had brought into his face my anger died away at once. 
I remembered what my mother had told me about his 
fear of the gallows, and I thought there might be truth 
in it. I was frightened. That was only the day before 
I got the letter that took me to the hotel at Somerset. 

That is enough for that,^^ said Lamar. It is not 
necessary that you should allow your mind to dwell 
much upon the unpleasant past. Choose the bright 
things. Miss Dye, if you must think of it at all, and let 
the rest go. However, I wish to ask you a question or 
two, if you donT mind. In the first place, were you 
feeling well and strong previous to the ninth of Decem- 
ber last, when you made your unfortunate visit to Som- 
erset?” 

^^Hot really well, sir. It had been increasing for 
some months. I think if I had been well I should not 
have felt so deeply the lonesomeness of my situation. 
My head troubled me greatly, and at times I suffered 
from an overwhelming feeling of despair and melan- 


THE FACE OF R08EHFEH 11.1 

choly, which I am sure was not natural to my disposi- 
tion/^ 

^^Then as to your sight. Could you not call up tne 
face of an absent person most yividly before your mind, 
and, shutting your eyes, sometimes almost persuade 
yourself that that person was standing before you?” 
Annette suddenly became very pale. She looked at 

the physician, agitated and amazed. • ow u 

^f-^hy— why, how could you know that, sir? she 
stammered. She seemed so excessively troubled and 
alarmed that everybody uttered an exclamation of sur- 
prise. In a few moments, however, she had partly re- 
covered, and then she at once went on in a hurried man- 
ner, much as if she were trying to get away from a dan- 
gerous topic as fast as possible. , j. t 

“Indeed I never forgot faces, nor anything else that I 
saw that interested me. Sometimes such a thing would 
haunt me for days. I suppose it was my loneliness and 
isolation that made me take so much interest in what I 
saw about me when I was young. I studied over them 
till they almost became a part of me; at least I fancied 
so. Sometimes when anything had impressed iteelf 
strongly on my mind it would come into my sleep night 
after night until it really terrified me with its vividness. 
And really. Doctor Lamar, I should like to know if you 
consider this a part of my disease ? ^ ^ 

She put the question anxiously, as if it were a most 

momentous one. ... 

“Oh, no! Not at all, not at all!” said the physician 
quickly, believing that he had alarmed her, though the 
fact seemed very strange and inexplicable to him. 
think, perhaps. Miss Dye, we have talked sufficiently on 
such topics for ope dajr. Some time when you arq 


112 


THE FACE OF ROSEJSfFEH 


stronger we will aiscuss them more fully. Forget this 
past that troubles you. You are in safe hands here, and 
I can assure you that your old life is a closed volume if 
you will only agree to make it so. My earnest advice to 
you is to keep your mind free from it. The present and 
the future are much more to the point. 

But what can I do?^^ sighed Annette, passing from 
her former agitation to an expression of uneasiness and 
distress. ‘ ^ I do not, I cannot feel happy here. I know 
it is wrong, but I cannot help seeming to myself a bur- 
den on my friends. If I could only earn my own liv- 
ing 

^^You shall cried Maxey with an inspired look. 
^^You yourself have already indicated the path. You 
have a talent for drawing and an admiration for art. I 
will become your teacher and you shall be an artist. 

^^And make your fortune at once. Artists always 
do,^^ added Miss Maxey with a sly look at her brother. 

^^But I am not sure that I can. I spoke too much of 
myself, perhaps. I may not have any talent at all,^’ 
stammered Annette. 

But the delight and hope in her face as she glanced at 
Maxey^s sketch betrayed her real feelings plainly. 

You will not refuse the artist cried. 

^^Not — not if you really would like to have me try.^^ 


I 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


llo 


CHAPTEE X. 

MB. DYE. 

T he tide flowed back and forth beneath the 
thickening ice unseen, and the winter wore on. 
Maxey^s new pupil was making much progress. The 
same was true, in another sense, of Maxey himself. 
Sometimes, in the interest and preoccupation of their 
mutual labors, their heads would get very close together. 
This was so entirely accidental and unpremeditated an 
occurrence that the fact that a sudden interruption at 
such times started a blush into the faces of each seems 
strange and unaccountable. But it was unquestionably 
the fact. A knock at the outer door one afternoon was 
attended by this result. They had been bending over a 
sketch by a window in the rear room, and both became 
suddenly conscious that they were betraying unwonted 
confusion. Maxey was so painfully aware of his own be- 
trayal of sentiment that he was very glad of the oppor- 
tunity offered to conceal it by answering the summons at 
the door. 

He stepped into the vestibule and partly closed the 
entrance to the rear chamber before he looked into the 
outer corridor. Two men stood by the stair-railing. 
When he saw them the artistes heart gave a great 
bound. One man he know by sight; the other he 
knew by intuition. Tho foremost man was the sly 
landlord of 40 Floo4 Street. The other, wUq re- 
maiftecj a littlo ii^ the rear, wag a curious specinaeu pf 


114 


THE FACE OF MOFEHFEL. 


humanity. He appeared to be between forty and 
fifty years of age. His face was smooth, his skin 
very pale and sallow. His cheeks sank into two 
cavernous hollows. His hair was long and of an ob- 
stinate straightness. It buried his ears and swept his 
coat collar. In perfect keeping with the rest of his ap- 
pearance, his eyes looked as though they might have 
been of a definite color in his boyhood, but had faded 
out from long usage. So did his hat, his coat and what 
was visible of the remainder of his habit. There was a 
telltale glossiness and a woebegone thread-bareness about 
them all. If there was a forlorn and utterly cast down 
atmosphere surrounding his face, this was equally true 
of his hat and shoes. His ancient coat was buttoned up 
about his neck with such an evident attempt to conceal 
the absence of a collar or the dirtiness of his linen, that 
the only possible excuse for having taken so much pains 
about the matter seemed to be to allow the observer a 
chance to amuse himself with a speculation as to which 
of the two was the fact. And with all this, there were 
hard lines in the man’s face which spoke of unhappi- 
ness; even, perhaps, despair. 

Mr. Belfry bowed as soon as the door was opened. 
With a placid wink, of which his companion was bliss- 
fully unconscious, he said: 

I believe you was the man, sir, that wanted a man 
to write letters for you ?” 

I believe I was,” returned the artist. And if you 
have found me the person I want I shall be greatly 
obliged to you. Let the gentlepian come in. Perhaps 
you wouldn’t mind yourself taking a seat in the vesti- 
bule?” 

The hireling gave Maxey a sly loolf a profound 


THE FACE OF EOSEJSfFEL. 


115 


bow. He motioned his companion forward, and when 
the door was closed immediately turned the key in the 
lock, drew a chair up against it and sat calmly down 
with his back to it. 

The faded and forlorn individual did not notice this 
action, as it was done behind him. He had come into 
the hall, had removed his hat, and was bestowing one or 
two smoothing touches upon his obstinate hair, eyeing 
Maxey rather steadily the while. 

You did not mention the gentleman^s name,^^ said 
the artist. 

^^His name is Hye,^^ returned the sly Belfry. 

At this, the lips of the stranger unclosed, to give slow 
and distinct utterance, in a dull, somber voice, to the 
corroborative statement. 

‘^Mr. Leander Dye, sir.^^ 

^^Dye? Dye? Eather an odd name, that. But I 
think I have heard it before. I think I have. Come 
in, Mr. Dye, come in. I have recently taken it upon 
myself to become the protector and guardian of a certain 
young person to whom I shall take great pleasure in in- 
troducing you.-^^ 

Maxey threw open the door communicating with the 
rear room and stepped in. The next instant the young 
woman and the man confronted each other. 

The meeting affected them differently. Annette was 
so overcome that she was obliged to cling to the piano 
for support. Mr. Dye, even under the shock of the 
first meeting, did not start, nor was anything added to 
the natural pallor of his countenance. He merely 
turned his head, saw the man who had brought him 
there sitting with his back against the door, cast a 
faded glance over the general situation, including the 




116 THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 

resolute artist standing before him^ folded his arms 
across his breast in a manner that would have been dig- 
nified but for the inconvenient necessity of retaining his 
hold on the forlorn hat, and made the remark as if he 
were announcing the most casual thing in the world: 

You have set a trap for me/^ 

Maxey was somewhat astonished at his coolness, 
though he thought his attitude a little theatrical. How- 
ever it might have been for Mr. Dye, the meeting was 
certainly a very painful one for the poor girl who had 
been taught in her early years to call him father. Her 
bosom rose and fell. She became so white that Maxey 
began to regret having subjected her to the shock. In 
his anxiety to overwhelm the man he had not considered 
the possible effect on the woman. Still, the worst was 
over and he could only proceed. 

I suppose you won^t deny that you j£now this lady?^^ 
he said, in a voice that was meant to be very uncompro- 
mising and stern. 

^‘'Sir, it would be utterly useless for me to deny any- 
thing.'’^ 

Mr. Dye had not cast a second glance at his former 
daughter, nor did he do so now. He made his answer 
in the most grave, even, dignified tones. He punctu- 
ated perfectly. There was a little pause after the 
sir, and a full stop at the anything.'’’ This calm- 
ness, which might be either the calmness of determina- 
tion, or of despair, rather disconcerted the artist. He 
had often imagined himself the central figure in such an 
interview, but he had never dreamed of a man like Mr. 
Dye. 

^^Nevertheless, I will break his guard yet,^^ he 
thought. 


TEE FACE OF EOSEEFEL, 


117 


After a minute^s silence Mr. Dye went on, in the 
same measured tones, in which self-conciousness and 
hopelessness were strangely intermingled. 

Touching the lady now under your charge, whom I 
once disgraced in permitting to be known by a name by 
no means a synonym for integrity and uprightness, I do 
not hesitate to say that I am exceedingly well rejoiced at 
seeing her in such apparently excellent health. She is a 
good girl, sir; she is everything the term implies, and 
yet, sir, you must be aware of the almost painful rela- 
tions that exist between us, and being aware of them, 
and of the fact that they are so strong that she left my 
house voluntarily, for the avowed reason that a longer 
life with so uncongenial a person as myself was unbear- 
able, you can scarcely be surprised that our meeting is 
not more mutually pleasureable and cordial.*^^ 

Mr. Dye occasionally hesitated an instant for a word, 
but generally his dull, somber voice flowed on, measure- 
ably and uninterruptedly, as if he were delivering him- 
self of a speech that was quite familiar to him. His 
dignified bearing was in such marked contrast to the 
dominant air of faded gentility that pervaded him as to 
be almost painfully ludicrous. Maxey gazed at him 
steadily, and said: 

You don^t know where she went when she left your 
house 

Sir, she never made a confidant of me. Do not 
misunderstand me. I am not reproaching her. I was 
utterly unfit for, and unworthy of her confidence. I 
always avoided her, as the bad instinctively avoid the 
good. She was right to go. I entered only a feeble 
protest. I am aware, sir, that it may seem incongruous 
and artificial coming from me, but, even at the risk of 



118 TEE FACE OF ROSEEFEL. 

seeming incongruous and artificial, I desire to say, in 
taking my farewell of tlie young lady under your 
charge — for you can scarcely wish to prolong an inter- 
view that is manifestly so painful to her — that I am 
heartily, devoutly, sincerely sorry that fate ever threw 
her into the way of such a worthless mortal as myself, 
and that I earnestly hope that her future may be as 
bright and unclouded as her past was dark an unfortu- 
nate/^ 

Despite the theatrical ring of the sepulchral voice, 
there was a tone of sincerity and candor about the last 
few words that made an impression, even against his 
will, upon the artist. The tears came into Annette^s 
eyes. Timidly and tremblingly she approached Mr. Dye 
and held out her small white hand. 

Mr. — no, father,'’^ she faltered, please do not think 
I was ungrateful. You will forgive me for what I said 
about my parentage when I was angry. If you have 
done right it was cruel. If you have not it is a matter 
for your own soul. I shall never forget that it was your 
roof that sheltered me when I had no other. Believe 
me; I did not run away from you. I met with — a ter- 
rible accident."’^ 

Mr. Dye did not look at her, but he unfolded his arms 
to take her hand, which he held as lightly as possible, 
and dropped at the first opportunity. Maxey, who was 
watching him closely, was startled to see in his face a 
momentary betrayal of sentiment. There was no doubt 
about it. Mr. Dye^s dim eyes watered, and the corners 
of his gloomy mouth twitched. The tone in which he 
at last replied was very different from the one in which 
he had previously spoken. 

If I said God bless you, it would be mummery. The 




TEE FACE OF nOSEEFEL, 119 

blessing of a man like me is a poor legacy, but I should 
like to say something to show you that I am really sorry 
for the part I have played in your life. You always 
were a good girl, and did your best to please me. I am 
not your father. I could not feel toward you as a father 
ought, perhaps, but I was not insensible of your virtues. 
I never was more pleased in my life than when I 

heard He seemed to think himself in danger of 

committing himself here, for he hesitated and finally 
substituted: When you just now told me that you had 

escaped a terrible accident. Good-by, Annette. 

Annette went out sobbing. When the door had 
closed behind her, Maxey mentally braced himself for a 
desperate contest. Unfortunately for him, at the very 
outset of the battle he felt a distrust of himself and a 
dread of the superior strength of his adversary. 

Acting upon the theory that Mr. Dye had some knowl- 
edge of the crime on the sea-road, he had prepared a 
terrible surprise for him. He had caused it to be un- 
derstood that the victim of that crime had died in conse- 
quence, and then suddenly confronted him with her. 
He had congratulated himself beforehand on the effect 
of this trying situation, but Mr. Dye had scarcely ex- 
pressed more surprise than if :fc had been the most or- 
dinary occurrence of daily life. 

Maxey spoke up sharply: 

How to the business which I have to transact with 
you. There is no need of your standing, sir. Sit down."’^ 
Sir, I was standing here,^^ said Mr. Dye, thoroughly 
recovered from his recent momentary weakness, utterly 
at a loss to determine what could be the marvelous nat- 
ure of the circumstances that could infiuence such a 
gentleman as yourself to take the pains to enter into a 


120 


THE FACE OF EOSENFEH 


not very reputable subterfuge to induce so humble an in- 
dividual as myself to come to your house, when a simple 
written request left at my lodgings would have been suf- 
ficient. Men do not take such pains — my long experi- 
ence with human nature leads me to say it — men do not 
take such pains without an adequate motive.'^^ 

Mr. Dye said all this not as though he had any real 
curiosity. In fact there was such a somber, graveyard 
atmosphere about his voice and manner that the hearer 
was involuntarily impressed with the belief that he had 
reached a stage of mental depression where it was no 
longer possible to harbor a lively interest in any affair of 
life. 

We will not discuss that now,^^ said Maxey. There 
are some matters which you must explain to my satisfac- 
tion before I shall feel overwhelmed with a sense of my 
own meanness. If you will sit down it will be more 
comfortable for you, as it may prove to be a somewhat 
lengthy session. 

Sir, it is immaterial to me.^^ 

Having said this with a sign that seemed to leave no 
matter of doubt that he spoie the truth, Mr. Dye 
accepted the proffered chair. He deposited his woebe- 
gone hat upon the center-table with as much care as if 
it had been the most valuable thing in the world, refolded 
his arms and fixed his faded glance upon the ruffled fur 
surface before him. Maxey seated himself opposite where 
he could watch hkn narrowly. 

^^You understand me, I hope, sir ? — must be ex- 
plained — if not to me now, to the proper authorities at 
some other time. I have not employed the police so far 
in this matter for reasons of my own. The police un- 
fortunately includes the press, My family affairs have 


THE FACE OF EOSEEFEL, 


121 


enjoyed all the publicity I care for of late, but if neces- 
sary, I have fully made up my mind to sacrifice my own 
feelings in this regard. I must inform you at once that 
the police would be very glad to know where to find you, 
and it remains for you to say whether you shall let them 
know it in person or go from here a free man.^^ 

Maxey had been awake nights planning his procedure 
at this interview. At this point in the case he had always 
pictured the trembling villain as turning pale and saying: 

Oh! Mr. Maxey, do not deliver me to the police and I 
will tell you everything 1^^ But in reality the presumable 
villain opened his unblanched lips to say, in an entirely 
steady voice: 

Sir, you see here a man who for years and years has 
been struggling in the face of great and insurmountable 
odds, and who has made a failure of the struggle. I do 
not know what you mean, but you evidently desire to 
institute legal proceedings of some nature against me. 
You have my full and free permission so to do. If I am 
accused of anything, I care not what in the category of 
crimes, from petty larceny to murder, I shall not take 
the trouble to deny it. When this man brought me to 
your door I was wondering if it were possible for Provi- 
dence so far to have relented toward me as to be opening 
for me a means of honest and manly employment. I 
came here as a last effort in that direction. With the 
result of this experiment in mind I shall never try it 
again. No, sir. Do what you please with me; I will 
employ no counsel. I will make no defence. The law 
may take its course. The remainder of my life, the 
manner of my death, is a matter of total indifference to 
me.^^ 

The voice had still its theatrical ring, but underneath 


122 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


it all there was a grimness and a sincerity that carried 
with it the conviction that he meant what he said. 
When the amsi'zed. Maxey could speak he exclaimed: 

^^So you confess your share in the crime without 
equivocation. 

Sir, I can only confess the truth, but as I am not a 
man of veracity, that would have little weight. If you 
have any evidence at all of any wrong dealing on my 
part an ignorant and uncultivated jury would un- 
doubtedly do your work and convict me of anything. I 
look like a villain. I have all the suspicions and unex- 
plainable habits of a villain. Twelve average men would 
say at once: ^ He is ^ villain. Let us punish himr^^ 

And you haven^t a shadow of a suspicion of what 
you would be accused 

Sir, of what use is it to question me? If I say no, 
you will not believe me. If I say yes, I should only lay 
myself open to further questions, which it would be im- 
possible for me to answer and then you would not be- 
lieve me. In any case I should.be a liar and an 
equivocator in your eyes. The shortest way is to call 
the police at once. Sir, I have used alcohol very freely 
of late years, and it has partially (succeeded in achieving 
the result to secure which I learned to like it — in blunt- 
ing my senses and brutalizing my intellect, but I have 
yet remaining to me — I think I may say without 
exaggeration — sufficient penetration and sagacity to 
understand that a gentleman like yourself does not take 
such pains to become possessed of the person of a social 
outcast like myself unless he believes such a step of 
supreme importance. Doubtless, you have your theo- 
ries?"^ 

Doubtless, I have. You have parried my question 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


123 


very ingeniously, Mr. Dye. Let me see what you will 
say to the next. You spoke of the truth in the matter. 
What is the truth 

^^Sir, I will answer you unreservedly. I connect my 
presence here, not without some degree of naturalness 
you must admit, to the interest you take in the young 
lady whom I have reared as my daughter. While I can 
have no idea of what your suspicions are, or of what you 
would convict me, inasmuch as you speak of the police, 
I infer that it must be something of a criminal nature. 
The truth in relation to that matter is, Annette is not 
my child, and I have no claim or authority over her. I 
never even legally adopted her. If she has borne my 
name it was because my late wife wished it for the Childs’s 
own sake. She believed that it would be humiliating 
for the child to be brought up in the knowledge that she 
had no name, that she was in truth a waif whose parent- 
age was unknown. I would have given much if the 
name we gave her had been worth more for her own 
sake, but it was the best that we could do under the 
circumstances.'^^ 

Who were Annette^s parents 
God knows. 

And you?"^ 

Sir, I am not in his confidence. 

You talk that way, and expect me to believe youP^ 

^^Sir, on the contrary, I do not. Neither do I wish 
to be understood as indulging in profane levity. I have 
the utmost respect for the Deity. He has. He can have, 
none for me.^^ 

Maxey was astounded. It was not alone the cool- 
ness of the man but the sincerity and despair with which 
he seemed to speak. In spite of himself, the artist 


124 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


began to believe him. For a moment he could not 
regain courage enough to return to the attack. Mr. 
Dye lifted his faded eyes inquiringly from the contempla- 
tion of his hat. 

You don^t believe me?^^ he said. 

It seems hardly possible. 

Sir, it is the truth. For myself I would not take 
the trouble to speak. For her sake I will say to you that 
I take my oath before Almighty God, as I hope for mercy 
in the world to come, that I do not know who her 
parents were.'^^ 

He said this solemnly and impressively. It produced 
a profound effect on Maxey, who had never drifted away 
from the religious teaching of his youth. The name of 
the Deity was a very solemn thing in his eyes. He could 
not understand why it should not be in the eyes of all 
men. Nevertheless, he mustered up courage to renew the 
battle. 

^^If this be true, why then did you appear so excited 
on the night when you put this child into your wife^s 
arms? Why did you plead with her so earnestly never 
to reveal that the child was not your own? Why did 
you even say that if the truth were known it might bring 
you to the gallows?’^ 

Surprises like this may startle the calmness of effront- 
ery, but there are few surprises sufficiently strong to 
overcome the calmness of despair. Mr. Dye was utterly 
unmoved. He replied in his somberest tones: 

Sir, you must be aware that the moribund when ap- 
proaching dissolution enters frequently into a stage of 
hallucination. The mind wanders. If it were worth 
while to defend myself, I should say that my poor wife 
was not herself — that she exaggerated.-^^ 


125 




THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL, 

This was simply unanswerable, and strangely enough, 
it was the first time it had occurred to Maxey. The 
artist felt the groundwork of his hopes giving way be- 
neath him, but he forced himself to assume a skeptical 
air and to proceed. 

^^You can tell me, I suppose, how you became pos- 
sessed of this child 

Sir, I can assuredly. 

In the name of goodness, vary your form of address 
a little, cried Maxey, exasperated by the inevitable pre- 
fatory ^^sir.'’^ Mr. Dye looked up with mild surprise in 
his faded eyes. 

Sinoe it annoys you, sir, I will.^^ 

It is unnatural, and you put it on for effect. 

You are a gentleman, sir. I cannot contradict you.-"^ 

Maxey bit his lip. 

^^Be kind enough, then, to go on.*^^ 

^^It was a dark night, sir,^^ said Mr. Dye, looking as 
though he were drawing the whole scene out of the 
rufiled surface of his forlorn hat. I was coming home 
from a low resort. I stumbled up my steps unsteadily 
and fell over a bundle that was lying outside my door. 
It was little Annette stupefied by the effects of some 
drug which had been given her. I took her into my 
wife and that poor, unfortunate woman who wrecked her 
life when she married me, conceived an affection for her 
at once. We never had any children. She desired to 
keep her. I permitted her to do so. That is the whole 
story. Do not think I wish to be short with you. I will 
answer any question you think it worth your while to ad- 
dress to me.^^ 

^^Did you leave the city immediately after you found 
the childr^ 


126 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEH 


Whyr 

My business — perhaps it would be franker to say my 
means of livelihood — necessitated it/^ 

What has been your means of livelihood?'’^ 

Swindling, in all its various forms/^ 

Maxey sat staring in bewilderment for some min- 
utes. 

By what methods 

By the meanest methods. Do you wish me to give 
a catalogue of my crooked ways? It would no doubt be 
instructive to you.'^^ 

Never mind that,^^ cried Maxey, with sudden 
energy. Answer me this, were you concerned in the 
attempt to murder this child, Annette ?^^ 

For once Maxey had struck home. 

Mr. Dye sprang to his feet with a force that over- 
turned his chair, and stood with a horrified look fixed 
full on the artistes face. His lip trembled and his voice 
faltered when he asked: 

Is that — is that your suspicion?^^ 

^^I am not here to talk of suspicions. I am asking 
you a plain question, susceptible of a plain answer. 

Gradually the horrified look faded out of his face. 
The lack-lustre eyes sought the surface of the hat again. 
He turned and carefully restored the chair to an upright 
position before he replied : 

I would rather, I would much rather, sir, the accu- 
sation should come in any other form; but go on, sir, go 
on even in this. If there has been such an attempt ar- 
rest me, try me, convict me, hang me. I am utterly 
unworthy of the least respect, as you realize. A man 
who would steal would kill. He would shoot down even 


THE FACE OF ROSEHFEH 


127 


the young and the innocent girl who trusted him. Go 
on, sir; I shall not oppose you/^ 

^‘1 am half a mind to take you at your word!^^ cried 
Maxey, rising and impatiently pacing the floor, 
shall not resist you, sir/^ 

Do you mean to tell me that you do not know of the 
foul attempt on this poor girFs life on the sea-road the 
very day you disappeared from town?^^ 

Mr. Dye made no reply at once, hut a harsh, grating 
sound issued from between his lips. Maxey even 
thought he heard him murmur through his clenched 
teeth: 

The black heart! The black heart 
But his faded glance was scarcely lifted from the for- 
lorn hat ere he became passive again. 

I can only say to you, sir, that I never heard of this 
thing before. 

Don’t you read the newspapers?’^ 

Not except by accident. I have no interest in the 
world whatever.” 

Do you never hear people talk?’^ 

I have heard nobody talk about this; but I have 
been away where I would be little likely to.” 

Why did you go away?” 

Because it was necessary for me to have money. I 
have been engaged in an attempt to raise money by dis- 
honest means — an attempt which failed as disastrously 
as it deserved. It was my belief, until I came here, 
that Annette had indeed voluntarily absented herself 
from my abode, as she had threatened to do. If you 
will ask the landlord at No. 40 Flood Street, he Avill tell 
you that I left money in his charge to be given to her if 
she returned during my absence. I had, I could have. 


128 


THE FACE OF B08EHFEL. 


no possible ill-will for that unfortunate girl. Neither 
was her life such that she could have acquired enemies. 
You speak in riddles, sir. Would it be asking too much 
that you should tell me the circumstances? But no. 
You will not do that, for I am the man suspected. 

^‘1 think circumstances warrant a suspicion that you 
know more than you will admit. Nevertheless, lest I 
do an injustice, I will tell you what you ask.*^^ 

He told it. Mr. Dye listened motionless till the end. 
When it was over he remained silent. 

^^Have you nothing to say to this ?^^ asked Maxey. 
^^Do you suspect nobody 

have nothing to say, sir.-^^ 

Nothing ?^^ 

Not a word.^^ 

Well, then,^^ cried Maxey, excitedly, there is only 
one course open to me."^ 

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Annette, 
whose eyes were not yet free from tears, implored his 
attention for a moment. He went into the parlor with 
her. 

Miss Maxey, dressed for the street, sat in one corner 
of the room, apparently preoccupied, though the un- 
usual color in her cheeks was evidence enough that she 
was disturbed by more than ordinary emotions. The 
artist barely noticed her. He was too much under the 
power of the new and contending feelings that filled his 
soul when Annette spoke to him to heed anything else. 
For Annette opened her heart to him and laid bare her 
sweet and forgiving nature as she never had done before. 
And she plead for the token of his regard for her which 
he was the least in the world desirous of granting. But 
what could he do under the spell of her presence? How 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL. 


129 


could he say no" even when the granting of her 
prayer would allow to slip through his fingers the first 
real key to the mystery of the sea-road which he felt he 
had ever held? The beautiful face turned toward him 
so beseechingly, the dark eyes emphasized her words so 
eloquently that he had no power to resist. She could 
not forget that Mr. Dye had brought her up, had given 
her a home, that he stood to her in place of a father. 
She could not bear to think of his being persecuted or 
molested on her account. If he would not speak, let 
him remain silent. The past was passed. Would not 
Mr. Maxey give her his promise not to follow up that 
dark matter further? Mr. Maxey did not want to, but 
for her sake Mr. Maxey would, and he did. 

promise you," he said, at length. I will detain 
him no longer. I will tell him that he is at liberty to 
go where he pleases, and that I do it for his daughters 
sake." 

Oh, no, please, don^t tell him that. It is not neces- 
sary that he should know that I interceded for him. I 
would rather not." 

Very well, then," said Maxey. So be it." 

He left the room and dismissed Mr. Belfry from his 
post in the hall. 

As he was holding the door open for the sly landlord 
to pass out. Miss Maxey swept by him on her way to the 
street, and as she went she fiashed into her brother's 
face a look of mingled pity and contempt which made 
him feel decidedly uncomfortable. 

She thinks I have yielded to Annette too readily," 
he refiected; and no doubt she is right. No doubt I 
have." 

Still, he could not retract his promise now. He went 
into the room where the somber man still sat. 


130 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL. 


Mr. Dye, I have only one more question to ask yon. 
Have you told me everything which you believe it is 
necessary for me as the guardian of Annette to. know 
Sir, I have nothing more to say.^^ 
have done, sir.^^ 

Mr. Dye arose, calm and unmoved now as he had been 
at first, smoothed off his hat with his glistening sleeve, 
put it upon his head, and made the following speech: 

I desire first, sir, to warn you if you wish to retain 
me, have m?e arrested. Necessity is a stern law. I must 
eat. If there is nothing for me here I shall not remain 
here. I do not much think, in view of the manifold 
vicissitudes of life and the uncertainties of the appella- 
tions which control human events, that if you let me go 
to-day it is at all probable you will ever see me again. 

You are at liberty to go where you will,^^said Maxey. 
^^If you have told me the truth there is no reason why 
you should not. If you have lied to me, settle it with 
your conscience. 

He opened the door. Mr. Dye said not a word. He 
made a profound stage bow, settled his hat more firmly 
on his head and stalked out. 

And that is the end,^^ thought the artist, with some 
bitterness, of my experience as a detect! ve.^^ 


TES FAQS OF MOSEMFEL. 


131 


CHAPTER XI. 

MISS MAXEY TEIES. 

M ISS MAXEY went out of the house in Ballavoine 
place with no definite purpose in view. She was 
disappointed, vexed, even offended by what she con- 
sidered Annette^s misplaced sentiment and Maxey^s want 
of firmness, but she was entirely unable to see what she 
could do to remedy the mischief. She had waited for 
Mr. Dye^s coming from the day she knew of Maxey’s 
visit to Flood Street with despairing impatience, and she 
had heard from the lips of Annette of his arrival in the 
house with an excitement which rendered her own ab- 
sence from the interview with him an almost unbearable 
hardship. Now at last she felt the long delayed time 
had come when something of the mystery of the cruel 
affair on the sea-road was to be cleared away. 

Miss Maxey longed to see the light of day poured in 
upon this dark deed. It was a longing not born of 
curiosity alone. All the sympathies of her broad and 
generous nature had been enlisted in the cause of the 
poor girl whom she had rescued from a nameless grave. 
Her outraged sense of justice made her aglow with a de- 
sire to know thait the guilty had suffered for the wrong 
inflicted on a helpless girl. The thought that the per- 
petrator of this dastardly crime was left free to go about, 
unchallenged and unmasked among his fellow-creatures, 
was at times almost maddening to her. And to think 
that after all that had happened, on the very verge, it 


132 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 




seemed to her, of the most important discoveries, the 
man who undoubtedly held the key of the whole matter; 
the man, in all probability, who was himself the criminal 
for whom they sought was, in order to satisfy the 
scruples of a too sensitive girl to be allowed to put him- 
self out of their reach forever — this distressed her almost 
beyond endurance. 

And in spite of all this she had come away without a 
word of remonstrance or reproach. Impulsive Miss 
Maxey undoubtedly was, but she w^as quite capable of 
putting a bridle upon her tongue in a moment of anger, 
for the very reason that she distrusted her own power of 
self-control. Not for the world would she have uttered 
a syllable that could by any possibility wound the sensi- 
tive spirit of Annette, and she did not dare trust herself 
to enter into an argument with her brother in her pres- 
ence. So she had come out into the freer atmosphere of 
the street. 

It was a cold, gloomy afternoon in January. The sky 
was dark and threatened snow. Miss Maxey was well 
wrapped up, and rather enjoyed the crisp atmosphere. 
It was certainly an antidote for the fever within her. 

She walked down the few paces which were necessary 
to take her to the high picketed fence that separated the 
street from the river. For a moment she looked out 
over the waste of whitened ice, and in that moment an 
idea came to her — out of so little do great things some- 
times arise! If Miss Maxey had gone her customary 
way up the street into the main avenue she would doubt- 
less have wandered about the neighborhood till ^he had 
gotten the better of her emotions and ha^e returned 
home, resigned to the inevitable. And so the part that 
she was to play in the unravelling of the sea-road mys- 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


133 


tery would never have been. But at the moment when 
she looked out between the pickets the idea came to her 
that she might, by remaining where she was, get a better 
view of the somber Mr. Dye than she had been able to 
obtain in the house through a half- opened door. It was 
only this and no more. All that followed came gradu- 
ally and step by step. 

Her brother had expressed his intention of dismissing 
Mr. Dye at once. The mysterious visitor ought, by this 
time, to be coming down the stairs and out into the 
street. She drew her veil over her face and turned to- 
ward the door. Almost at the same instant the woebe- 
gone hat, the shiny coat, and all that appertained 
thereto, emerged into the open air. 

Mr. Dye did not look about him. His head did not 
seem to be capable of holding itself erect. His eyes 
were fixed on the ground. He plunged his hands deep 
into his side coat pockets, and set out with a slow and 
not exactly steady step toward the avenue. Almost in- 
voluntarily, certainly without reflecting upon what she 
did. Miss Maxey followed him at the same slow pace. 
When he reached the corner he stopped and looked up 
and down the street, as if undecided which way he had 
better take. Miss Maxey slackened her pace lest she 
should overtake him. 

After a momentary hesitation he made his decision. 
He took the way to the right. Was he going back to 
Flood Street? His last movement would indicate that 
he was not, though the crookedness of the city streets 
might leave even this a matter of doubt. He went on 
in the same slow, unsteady, dejected manner. Presently 
he crossed the street, and turning into a branch thor- 
oughfare, went up toward the heart of the city. Miss 


134 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


Maxey followed, though she kept upon the other side of 
the way. 

Then it was that the idea of shadowing him to the . 
end and spying upon him so far as she could first came 
into the mind of the artist’s sister. With a glow of ex- 
citement at her heart and a quickening breath, the de- 
liberate project of playing the detective took form within 
her. It was novel; it was enticing, and it fascinated her. 
Still keeping the conspicuous form of the somber Dye in 
sight, she thought over the chances and dangers of such 
a project, and it did not take a great deal of reasoning to 
convince her that, except in a most limited sphere, her 
design was a wild one. It was all well now and here, at 
this time of day, in an eminently respectable part of the 
city, to continue as she had begun. There was no one 
to molest her or make her afraid. But how would it be 
if the somber Dye should betake himself to the less 
reputable lanes and alleys of the metropolis? Would she 
dare to follow him even there? She did not know very 
much about such places, to be sure; but she had heard 
of them, and her courage failed her when she thought of 
them. Besides, there were not many hours of daylight 
left. 

No,” she refiected; I cannot do everything as if I 
were a man, but I can at least go on until something 
occurs to turn me back.” 

And she went on. 

Again Mr. Dye passed into another street. There 
could be very little doubt about it now. He was going 
back to Flood Street. If not there, to some place in 
that locality. So he would go on till he came to the 
door of house No. 40; he would pull the bell and walk 
in; the door would close behind him. And then what? 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEH 


135 


Manifestly there would be nothing for her to do but to 
turn about and retrace her steps, no wiser than when 
she had set out, and having had her trouble for her 
pains. Such was the prospect. 

Miss Maxey sauntered leisurely along upon the oppo- 
site side of the way and some distance behind, trying not 
to appear to look at Mr. Dye at all. But this precaution 
was useless. Mr. Dye never looked around. He con- 
tinued to drift on in the same faltering, unenergetic, 
despondent fashion, with his hands in the side pockets 
of his thread-bare coat and his head bent down. 

He does not look like a very old man,^^ thought 
Ellen, ^^but judging by his gait he must be in feeble 
health. 

They were now passing through a quiet side-street 
which led down a gentle declivity. There were not 
many pedestrians, and out of the gloomy sky a few fine 
chrystals of snow were leisurely finding their way to the 
pavement. 

Mr. Dye had traversed about half the length of the 
street, when Miss Maxey noticed a carriage containing 
two women, one of whom was driving, turning in from 
the avenue which ran at right angles with the bottom of 
the decline. The woman who drove was on the side to- 
ward Mr. Dye. The horses walked slowly up the hill. 

Miss Maxey marked these facts only in a mechanical 
way, until a sudden change in the manner of the woman 
who drove attracted her attention. There was no doubt 
about it. The driver was filled with strong emotions at 
the sight of Mr. Dye. The somber man^s gaze was still 
downward. He had not noticed her; but the occupant 
of the vehicle seemed to have concentrated her whole at- 
tention upon him. When she came opposite to him she 


136 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, 


drew up with a sudden pull upon the reins. Then she 
bent over and seemed to call to him in a low voice. 

Mr. Dye started out of his abstraction and looked up 
to find himself face to face with her. Even at the dis- 
tance which intervened between herself and the scene. 
Miss Maxey fancied she saw the man^s sallow face turn 
to a deadlier pallor and his jaw drop. He certainly 
staggered for an instant like a drunken man, and then 
stood motionless in the middle of the sidewalk, staring 
at the woman in the carriage. The woman spoke again 
and beckoned to him. At this Mr. Dye roused himself, 
threw a hasty glance over his shoulder in each direction, 
as if calculating the chances of fight, and ended by 
stepping out into the street and entering into a conver- 
sation. 

All this time Miss Maxey was coming nearer and 
nearer. If she could only hear one little sentence of 
what they were saying she thought it would be some 
satisfaction to her, but unfortunately she was on the 
other side of the way and she did not dare to cross over. 
She did not dare even to look unduly toward the point 
where all her interest was centered, for the reason that 
the woman seemed to be suspicious of everything about 
her. Even in the midst of her conversation with Mr. 
Dye, which seemed to be conducted, on her part, with 
much earnestness and emphasis, she glanced up and 
down the street in a cautious, uneasy manner, and 
looked at Ellen fixedly. It was when she looked at her 
thus directly that Ellen first became aware of a vague 
and but half-active impression that she did not see this 
face now for the first time. And yet how was it possible 
for her to have seen so striking a face and have forgot- 
ten the place and the circumstances? The same hasty 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEE 


137 


scrutiny which showed her this showed her also that the 
woman was richly, even lavishly, attired, and that, 
though she might be between thirty and forty, she was 
still young, still fascinating. 

Men would like her,^^ thought the artistes sister, in 
spite of the cynicism and disdain that spoils the face for 
me.'’^ And thinking this she went on, vainly trying to 
stimulate the passive sentiment that rose in her mind at 
the sight of this new countenance into active recollec- 
tion. 

As for the other occupant of the carriage, Ellen 
hardly noticed her. Yet she knew, too, in a mechanical 
way, that she was young — not more than twenty, per- 
haps much less, that she had a smiling, pretty face, of 
much the same type of beauty as the more mature fea- 
tures beside her. 

As Ellen passed that point in the street where the 
vehicle stood, her straining ears caught only six distinct 
words in a woman^s voice: 

^^It will admit of no delay. 

Mr. Dye^s response was inaudible. 

This was all that she, without betraying an interest in 
the affair, beyond that of a chance passer, was able to 
rescue out of the whole conversation. She was so care- 
ful not to do this that she even refrained from looking 
around after she had passed the carriage. In truth, it 
was not until she had nearly reached the corner of the 
street, and the sound of wheels on the hard stones 
warned her that the carriage had started ahead that she 
again ventured to satisfy her curiosity. 

A rather curious state of affairs presented itself to her 
view when she turned. The carriage had indeed re- 
sumed its onward course in the same direction as before. 


138 


THE FACE OF ROSEHFEL, 


but Mr. Dye had faced about and was preceding it upon 
the sidewalk a little distance in front. The snow was 
now beginning to fall more thickly, and Ellen felt that 
there was serious danger of losing sight of the people in 
whom she was so greatly interested: 

Undoubtedly when the carriage got to the top of the 
hill it would drive on at a much more rapid rate. She 
quickened her footsteps and crossed the street so as to 
be upon the same side with Mr. Dye. By this time the 
trio had reached the top of the declivity and were going 
down on the other side. Ellen hastened forward, keep- 
ing as much as possible out of sight behind the occa- 
sional pedestrian. But before she reached the end of 
the thoroughfare all anxiety that the carriage would 
drive on out of her reach had left her. She began to 
understand the situation. Whoever the woman in the 
carriage might be, they were evidently afraid or ashamed 
of being seen in company with the forlorn Dye. And 
yet it was very important that he should go along with 
them. They dared not take him into the vehicle. So 
they had compromised the matter by causing him to 
walk a short distance in advance. Nobody would think 
that this woebegone ragmuffin who walked could have 
any possible connection with the elegantly dressed ladies 
who rode. 

Mr. Dye must know the way then perfectly well. 
Undoubtedly, for he turned the corner without looking 
back, and the vehicle in its succession promptly wheeled 
about into the same avenue. Ellen perceived this with 
an increasing glow at her heart and the most bewilder- 
ing speculations in her head. 

The snow-flakes came more thickly, and the young 
woman who had taken upon herself the bold and mascu- 


THE FACE OF BOSEJSTFEL. 


139 


line task of following the somber Dye kept as close as 
she dared to her unconscious victim lest some significant 
circumstance should escape her observation. But no 
significant circumstance occurred. 

The carriage and the man went on steadity, without 
any further intercourse or interchange of any possible 
signs, through the net-work of city streets to some defi- 
nite destination. 

This I can see very clearly/^ thought Ellen. But 
why, if this woman is so afraid of attracting observa- 
tion, did she not send this man about by another road 
and drive on at a natural pace? People must think it 
strange to see her walking her horse in the midst of a 
heavy snow storm. Evidently she mistrusts him. Evi- 
dently he fears her. This is a most inexplicable affair. 

The carriage at last turned into a broad avenue lined 
with elegant houses. It was, in truth, one of the most 
aristocratic streets of the city, and the house before 
which the vehicle eventually stopped was not eclipsed 
by any af its neighbors. 

Mr. Dye had already mounted the long fiight of 
brown-stone steps, had opened the outer door and gone 
in out of sight of anybody in the street. It was not to 
be supposed that he had entered the house, however; 
for all of these residences were protected by double 
doors, separated by a vestibule. Mr. Dye, in all proba- 
bility, was waiting in the inner space for his fashionable 
patrons to come up and admit him. Almost at the mo- 
ment the carriage wheels grated against the curb-stones 
in front of the house, a serving man came up out of a 
door underneath the steps, and after helping the ladies 
out, got into the empty seat and drove away. Miss 
Maxey tried not to have it so, but fate brought it about, 


140 


THE FACE OF R08EHFEL. 


that she came to the brown-stone steps at the very mo- 
ment when these women were about to ascend them. 
She put as much space of sidewalk between herself and 
them as she conveniently could^ but none the less she 
felt herself observed, and knew, though she kept her 
own eyes straight ahead, that the elder woman, at least, 
was looking at her. Her sharp ear detected a whisper a 
moment afterward, and she fancied that the possession 
of the half-remembered face was calling her companion's 
attention to her. Perhaps the woman had recognized 
her and remembered to have seen her in the quiet street 
where they met Mr. Dye. 

Ellen was aware of a slight trembling while she was 
undergoing this inspection. But it was only a moment- 
ary affair. She went on quickly. The women passed 
up the steps, shaking their garments, and the door 
closed after them with a slam. 

The snow fell in blinding, whirling eddies. Prom 
minute specks the flakes had become large and feathery. 
It was impossible to see far in any direction. What was 
to be done?^^ 

Having reached this point must Ellen Maxey turn 
about and go home? Ho; not yet. She would wait a 
little while still. Wait and see Mr. Dye come out again. 
Yes, but where? She could not stand there in the 
street. She did not like to walk up and down before 
the house. Where ? 

Then an interesting fact reached her through the 
v/hirl and the maze of the falling snow. There was a 
glaring placard in the window of the house immediately 
adjoining that in which her interest centered. Ho 
window curtains made a back-ground for this card, and 
big black letters announced that the premises were ^^for 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, 


141 


sale/^ The further fact that she had seen the footman 
come out of an area door beneath the steps when the 
carriage stopped, was all that she needed to induce an 
inspiration. The houses along here were extremely 
uniform. There was a similar door closing beneath the 
steps of the unoccupied house. A plain wooden door 
sat in the solid masonry and opened by a simple latch. 

Miss Maxey descended a short flight of steps, ap- 
proached this door and tried it. To her intense satisfac- 
tion it yielded to her touch. She pushed it open and 
went in. Not a very comfortable place, to be sure. 
Dark, cold, disagreeable, this little space beneath the 
steps, hardly fit for a tramp to sleep in! 

Miss Maxey turned the knob of the door leading from 
this area into the house. The door was fast. What 
matter, then, if it were cold and dark? She was at least 
secure from observation, and if she had ransacked the 
whole neighborhood in search of a convenient location 
from which to have watched the adjoining front steps, 
she could not have secured a better than the one upon 
which she had thus accidentally stumbled. She left the 
entrance slightly unclosed that she might look out, and 
sat down upon the wooden step with her back against 
the inner door. 

The time passed and the snow fell. It fell so thickly 
that it muffled the sound of footsteps in the street above. 
People came and went. It grew dark. A boy with a 
patent torch lighted the lamp in front of the brown 
stone steps. Miss Maxey^s limbs were cramped and 
cold. It seemed as though the minutes lengthened 
themselves to hours; the hours grew to be days; and still 
there was no appearance of the forlorn hat and the 
thread-bare coat upon the neighboring threshold. The 


142 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, 


carts rumbled in the street. The man who had gone 
with the horses came back. The snow fell on, and still 
no Dye! 

If Miss Maxey^s brain had not been so busy with ex- 
citing speculation and daring plans for the future; if she 
had not had so fascinating a problem to deal with in try- 
ing to locate the face of that elder woman who drove, 
somewhere in her own uneventful past, the time would 
doubtless have seemed so long that she would scarcely 
have had the courage to wait. But it takes some ob- 
stacles to break the endurance of such a girl as this. 

It had grown quite dark. The snow had ceased. The 
light which had been a sort of luminous whirl in front of 
the brown stone steps burned out, clearly and steadily. 
It lighted up the forlorn hat at last. Mr. Dye was com- 
ing down into the street. 

Miss Maxey arose and crept to the door. Mr. Dye 
came toward her. His face was in the shadow and she 
could not see the expression of his features. But he 
staggered as he walked — staggered almost like a drunken 
man. He was muttering to himself as he went along in 
an excited, incoherent way. One sentence only was 
fated to reach Miss Maxey "s ears. It was this: 

Of the two I think the woman is the worst. 


THE FACE OF EOSENFEL. 


143 


CHAPTER XIL 

A DREADFUL MISTAKE. 

HE UNSTEADY figure of the somber Dye went 



JL on along the snow-covered pavement alone. Miss 
Maxey no longer followed him. 

Instead of that she walked boldly up from the area 
door into the street^ ascended the brown-stone steps and 
pulled the bell. This was the result of her reflections in 
the cold and dark. She would see this high-bred ac- 
quaintance of the mysterious man, convince her of the 
urgency of the case, threaten her if need be, and learn 
from her, if she could, who and what he was. 

It was not without a conscious dread and shrinking 
that she took the initiative step in this determined pro- 
ject. She had been rather inclined to consider herself 
as lacking in executive ability, but none of us exactly 
know ourselves until an emergency arises to test us. 
After she had let go the handle which summoned the 
servant to the door, she was taken with a fit of trem- 
bling and began to consider whether she had better not 
run away while there was yet time. The instant the 
servant appeared and she had spoken to her, her courage 
returned, the trembling left her; she could not under- 
stand what had so frightened her a moment before. 
But the sentiment which came to take the place of the 
dread and the fear was soon changed from that of brav- 
ery to surprise and bewilderment. As the house seemed 
destitute of a door-plate, Miss M^xey had made up her 


144 


TEE FACE OF ROSENFEE 


mind to ask^ like a peddler or a beggar, for the lady of 
the house. Her ring had been answered with surprising 
alacrity by a maid in a white cap, who now, hardly 
waiting for her to open her lips, said in a low voice: 

^^You want to see my lady? Yes. She is waiting 
for you. Come up. This way.'’^ 

The next moment the door closed behind her, and 
Miss Maxey was in the house. Her heart was beating 
rapidly. What did this mean? Had the woman sus- 
pected her? watched her? Did she know how she had 
followed her carriage and had hidden under the steps of 
the adjoining house till Mr. Dye had come out? It 
seemed preposterous, but it must be so. 

Come right with me,^^ said the maid in the same 
low tone, when she had closed the door. 

She began at once to ascend the broad, richly-carpeted 
stair-case which led to the floor above. Miss Maxey, 
startled and confused, followed. Having reached the 
head of the flight the maid went along the spacious hall 
toward the rear of the house and turned into a narrower 
passage running at right angles. The light was dim. 
It was with difficulty that the artistes sister could see her 
way. The maid knocked at a door. Immediately there 
was a rustle within, followed by the sound of a key turn- 
ing in the lock. The door opened cautiously a little 
way, and a woman^'s voice said: 

Is it she?^^ 

Yes,^^ the maid answered. 

Be quick, said the voice. 

The maid laid her hand upon Miss Maxey^s shoulder, 
and in her eagerness to enforce the order, urged her, al- 
most pushed her, through the doorway. Miss Maxey 
suddenly found herseli in a glare of light that dazzled 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEH 


145 


her eyes. This fact^ and the realization that the door 
was instantly closed and locked, constituted her first im- 
pressions. Immediately the strong, and to her the sick- 
ening smell of ether choked her with its intensity, and 
she saw the room and all that it contained. 

It was a bed chamber, expensive and luxurious in all 
its appointments. Great mirrors, a costly dressing-table, 
elegant but sensuous pictures, rugs that would have 
been a wealth of delight and warmth to the feet. Noth- 
ing was wanting that an epicurian taste could suggest 
and money purchase. But for all that, the furniture 
was disarranged and disordered as if some unwonted dis- 
turbance had lately occurred there. The bed had been 
drawn out into the center of the floor. The lace cur- 
tains with which it had been surrounded had been taken, 
were torn from their places and lay in a confused heap 
on the floor. A table stood near the bed. Upon it 
were several sponges, a bowl containing water deeply 
tinged with blood, a chafing-dish with a red-hot curling 
iron apparently forgotten in it. 

The sight of this last instrument affected Miss Maxey 
more deeply than anything else. Despite the powerful 
fumes of the ether, she thought she detected a more dread- 
ful odor still, as of burning flesh. On the bed, not in 
it, dressed in a loose wrapper, which was still further 
loosened at the neck to give her all possible ease of 
breathing, lay the pretty young woman whom Miss 
Maxey had seen with the elder in the carriage, pale now 
and leering about in a silly, idiotic way. Miss Maxey 
knew instinctively that she was under the influence of 
ether. She was very scantily dressed and had been cov- 
ered with a sheet, apparently, but in her convulsive mo- 
tions had displaced it. Miss Maxey^s frightened glance 
fancied she detected spots of blood upon the cloth. 


14:6 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


All this, Bot more the powerful total than the small- 
est detail of the scene, rushed in upon Miss Maxey's hor- 
rified senses with the suddenness and the power of a 
thunderbolt. In those few moments she saw that which 
a life-time will not efface. 

Then she became aware that another face, as pale and 
startled as her own, was at her side regarding her in 
speechless consternation. Even before she turned to- 
ward it she knew that this face was the handsome, dis- 
dainful face that had looked forth on the trembling Dye 
from the carriage. She realized this in one instant. In 
the next the woman caught her by the wrist, had with 
excited roughness pulled her about so that she faced 
her, and demanded in a voice in which anger and fear 
seemed to be sharply commingled: 

What do you mean? How dare you come in here?^^ 

Oh, how strongly it came to Miss Maxey now — the 
feeling that she had seen this face somewhere before. 
And yet it seemed almost impossible that it should be 
so. Strange that she could not make this feeling seem 
reasonable, and yet could by no effort drive it away. 
The woman was dark, handsome, of queenly presence, 
though there was even a masculine air of firmness about 
the face and a nose too prominent for perfect symmetry. 
Her beauty was of a wayward, voluptuous kind, and had 
in it neither classic purity nor refinement. And yet so 
strongly did these same dominant impressions manifest 
themselves to the beholder in the younger face upon the 
bed, despite the unnatural expression and the silly leer, 
that Miss Maxey was almost ready to declare the re- 
lationship between them that of mother and daughter. 

Even these refiections passed like a flash through Miss 
Maxey^s intuitive mind while she stood bewilderingly 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL, 


14 ? 


returning tlie fierce look of the woman who held her by 
the wrist. The silence only exasperated the questioner. 
Her nervous hold on the arm tightened, and she said in 
a lower, but still more intense voice: 

Do you hear me? Who are you? What do you 
want?"^ 

Do not blame me, said Miss Maxey, at last, in a 
voice the clearness and steadiness of which surprised her- 
self. ‘ ^ It is not my fault that I am in this room. I asked 
only to see you. The servant brought me. I mighc al- 
most say dragged me here.^^ 

The idiot! The idiot cried the woman with more 
anger, but not less suspicion. This blunder will cost 
her her place. Whom did you wish to see?^^ 

^^You, madam. 

^^Me? You have chosen an odd hour for your call!’^ 
The woman breathed painfully in her agitation, dropped 
Miss Maxey’s arm, and tore open the door in a fever of 
haste. 

There 1^^ she cried. This is not my reception-room! 
Here, little fool, show this lady down stairs. 

The frightened servant, who appeared, obeyed her. 
Ellen followed her to the floor below. As she descended 
the stairs she passed an elderly female, with an energetic 
stride, coming up. Ellen was very sure the new-comer 
went into the chamber from which she had just come 
and she thought: 

^^That is the person, whoever she may be, for whom I 
was mistaken. 

Miss Maxey was conducted to a dainty reception-room 
on the first floor. The gas was lighted, and she was left 
alone with her reflections. She sank into a chair. A 
long time, a very long time elapsed. She heard many 


148 


THE FACE OF EOSEFFEL. 


footsteps go along tlie hall outside her door before any 
one sought again to turn the handle. She listened with 
all her power. She even held her breath. The sight she 
had seen in the chamber had made so powerful an im- 
pression upon her that it almost seemed to be before her 
still. She did not understand it, but the very mystery 
made the possibilities so much the more dreadful. What 
was the nature of the strange horror she had surprised? 
Who was the fashionable woman who had such curious 
acquaintances in the outer world, who sheltered such 
nameless enormities under her roof? Miss Maxey was a 
young woman who had been protected from the rough 
breath of the great world from her infancy; to whom 
evil, in all its greater and more repulsive forms, had al- 
ways seemed unreal and dreamlike; but yet as she sat 
there in that silent room, her active mind, busy with the 
logic of the events of the past few hours, saw before it 
such possibilities of the depth of human depravity as 
made her tremble for the powers of her own imagina- 
tion. What did it mean? What could it mean? The 
pretty girl who but a few hours before had been riding 
for pleasure in her carriage through the city streets, now 
prostrate and insane? The ether, the red-hot curling- 
iron, the smell of burning flesh! Miss Maxey^s mind 
reeled under the fancies of what it might mean; and yet 
in the midst of it all she was aware of a latent impres- 
sion that nothing in all these wild speculations was 
plausible enough to be the truth. 

What a hazardous, foolish thing this following of Mr, 
Dye had proved! Was it not an unladylike action, and 
might she not live to regret having committed it? A 
vague fear haunted her. 

The time came when her reflections were interrupted. 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL, 


149 


She heard no warning step in the hall outside. The 
knob turned quietly. The door swung noiselessly. And 
she whom she had come into the house to see, came in. 

The woman was exceedingly pale, and her eyes seemed 
unnaturally large. There was a slight trembling of her 
hands, but no tremble of the lip. She spoke at once 
upon her entrance, in a disdainful manner and a steady 
Yoice. 

To whom have I the honor of speaking 

To a lady who desires to remain unknown. 

Miss Maxey would not have made that answer an hour 
ago, but events had brought her to a wise determination. 
A slight color came into the handsome woman^s face. 

This is very extraordinary. What do you want?^^ 
wanted to ask you a few questions. 

Oh, indeed! Well, I can relieve you of any further 
necessity of waiting on that score. I shall not answer 
questions addressed to me by a person who desires to re- 
main unknown/^ 

There was the most bitter irony and contempt in the 
tone of this speech. But for all that the hand trembled 
still, though it was laid upon the back of a cushioned 
chair to steady it. 

Ellen arose at once, reddening in spite of herself. 

I have no means to force you,'’^ she said quietly. 

We are at least on an equal footing. I do not know 
you any better than you know me.^^ 

The woman caught her breath in a painful way. 

You dc not know my name, and yet you are in my 
house 

1 came into your house because I saw a person about 
whom I am very anxious to know come out of it. I 
mean Mr, Dye.^^ 


. 150 


THE FACE OF ROSEFFEL. 


The woman gasped again. Her eyes were fixed upon 
Ellen^s face, with burning intensity. She did not even 
attempt to speak. Ellen went on: 

That man I am yery much interested in. It is a 
family matter. I am aware that I did a very bold thing, 
and I heartily apologize for my rudeness, but my rea- 
sons for wishing to know are so very urgent that they 
led me to overstep the bounds of social custom. I 
thought if you had no objections to telling me what you 
know of that man, the information would be very valu- 
able to me. If you do object, I can only say again what 
I said before, that I am sorry for my intrusion, and go." 

Ellen^s voice as she went on grew stronger, till it had 
almost a defiant ring. The woman answered her with 
forced composure: 

You saw this fellow — I have not the pleasure of his 
acquaintance — you say, come out of my house. I know 
nothing about him, and I know equally little about you. 
Your story is very suspicious. If he is a thief, and you 
an accomplice, it will be well to let this matter go at 
once to the police. 

The blood rushed into Ellen^s face. She spoke im- 
pulsively: 

Are you very sure, madam, that you fear the police 
less than I r 

If Ellen had had any idea of the effect of her words 
she would not have uttered them. The woman fiew into 
a fit of momentary passion, which caused Miss Maxey to 
tremble for her personal safety. She turned ashy pale 
even to the lips. She danced upon the floor like an un- 
ruly child. She took a step toward Ellen, changed her 
mind suddenly, seized a costly ornament from the center- 
table, and dashed it to atoms on the marble before the 
fire-place. 


THE FACE OF EOSENFEL. 


151 


This extraordinary action, the fact that destruction in 
some form had followed her wrath, seemed to appease 
her in a degree. When the act was done she stood glar- 
ing at Ellen a moment and then with a quick rustle of 
silk, left the room. 

Ellen would have followed her and made the best of 
her way out of the house, but the strange creature came 
back so quickly that she stopped her upon the threshold 
of the apartment. 

She had succeeded in calming herself and even looked 
at Ellen with a tinge of fear in her big eyes. Her voice 
trembled in spite of all she could do as she said: 

You insulted me or I should apologize to you. I 
should have sent you away without a word the moment 
you told me that you desired to conceal your identity but 
for the fact that the stupidity of a servant makes it 
necessary for me to explain a trifling matter. An unfor- 
tunate accident happened to a protege of mine this after- 
noon, and the remedies were so powerful that ether was 
used. The doctor was called away before the effects of 
the ether had passed off. I was afraid and sent for a 
lady physician in whom I have great confidence, who 
lives but a few doors below. The servant, expecting her 
at the moment of your arrival, showed you up. Do you 
understand this, that you set no foolish stories afloat. 
Mind that you do not, for the child will be herself again 
to-morrow to contradict you. That is all. Good after- 
noon.^^ 

One moment, madam. If I should send somebody 
here who would tell you who I am and who he is and why 
we wish to know would you 

Ellen hesitated. She was really afraid of this woman. 
^^Well^ would I ” said the haughty voice, and 


152 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


there was a look of affected surprise and incredulity in 
the cynical face. 

Would you tell me what you know about Mr. Dye?^^ 
You insult me to my face, after what I have told 
you!^^ The woman stamped her foot upon the floor, ut- 
tered with fierce emphasis the single supplemental syllable 
and swept out of Miss Maxey^s sight. 

A servant bowed Miss Maxey out with grave politeness 
and the heavy door closed after her. 

It was over, and she felt like a child. For a moment 
a great weakness in all her body seemed about to cause 
her to fall down. She clung to the door-case for siip^ 
port. As she did so she noticed a tiny silver door-plate 
just under the bell-handle, which had before escaped her 
eye. With feverish impatience she bent down and 
scrutinized the delicate tracery thereon in the light from 
the street lamp. The force of what she read rendered 
her for the moment incapable of thought or motion. It 
was the simple name Forsythe.'’^ 

And this was the house 16 Livingston Street! It was 
no longer a problem where she had seen that handsome 
face. It was the original of the medallion which Doctor 
Lamar, during that memorable sleigh-ride on the sea- 
road had told her, bore the features of the woman he 
was to marry. 

^^I must never tell Julian what I have dared to do to- 
day. Never. He would be terribly displeased. But 
none the less, it is my duty to warn Doctor Lamar. 
How? I do not know. But one thing I do know. 
Whatever may be the result of this sad complication, 
whatever happens, I never will do the foolish thing 
again that I have done to-day. Whatever comes I have 
done with playing the detective.'’^ 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


153 


CHAPTEE XIIL 

AFFAIRS OF THE HEART. 

A S WITH pretty Ellen Maxey so with the others. 
The end seemed to have been reached. 

AYhen Mr. Dye stalked out of the artistes rooms, and 
the shiny surface of his woebegone coat had vanished 
from Maxey^s sight it seemed as if every ray of light 
that tended to illuminate the double mystery, to solve 
which Maxey had stooped to a subterfuge, had vanished, 
too. 

Here at last the good artist, and the other acute in- 
vestigators, reached a dead wall. Here every thread 
was broken. Here, to all appearances, the matter came 
to a hopeless termination. The several actors in the 
drama settled down to the more ordinary happenings of 
daily life. New matters, quite as absorbing, however, 
removed from the terrible, claimed their attention. The 
more vivid sensations of to-day gradually obscured the 
less vivid sensations of yesterday. They did not forget, 
but they ceased to talk about the fateful night on the 
sea-road and all that grew out of it. 

Lamar was unhappy. He was a frequent visitor at 
the artistes rooms, even now, when there was no longer 
any need of his professional services. He seemed to 
come there in his leisure moments as a refuge from him- 
self. He was the most cheerful and witty of society, but 
the smile died on his lips when he crossed the threshold 
on his way out. It was as if a shadow fell upon him 


154 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEH 


everywhere but here; as if the sun shone in only at the 
windows above the river, and all the rest of the w’orld 
were dark. 

Did Lamar know why this was? In a vague way, 
perhaps, but he surely did not acknowledge it to him- 
self and still preserve his relations with the widow For- 
sythe, and still come here. No; Lamar was not a man 
of that stamp. The day he really found himself out, 
that day would his visits cease. 

As for the poor girl without a name, she gradually 
became a natural and necessary part of the artistes 
home circle. The time came when the face wore every 
day a smile, and somehow that smile opened a world of 
light and beauty in the place. In her art lessons she 
was making wonderful progress. The day that the 
knock at the outer door had startled teacher and pupil 
into a consciousness of how very close to each other their 
heads had come, was scarcely the. first, and it was cer- 
tainly not the last on which the phenomenon occurred. 
Such a very apt pupil was the girl without a name, so 
devoted to art; so very earnest a teacher was Julian 
Maxey; so delighted with her achievements, that these 
little episodes were scarcely to be wondered at. But, 
however much the familiarity of daily association might 
bring these two together, there was still a barrier to a 
mutual understanding, for poor Miss Dye remained at 
heart the the same shy, timid creature that she had ap- 
peared at first. She became easy and natural and 
smiled because her surroundings were bright and she 
was young, but there was a native delicacy arvd sensi- 
tiveness that betrayed itself through all. 

Neither was she wholly happy. When she though^ 
herself alone there were times when she Mi tor 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


155 


head upon her hand, looking out over the lonesome river 
to the hills that made the background, and when she was 
sitting thus, if she smiled at all it was through her tears. 
There was one thing that troubled her much. It was 
the sense of dependence and obligation. She could not 
feel satisfied to share in a prosperity to which she did 
not materially contribute. It was this that held her to 
an untiring attention and studiousness in her new occu- 
pation. She hoped to earn a livelihood with her pencil, 
and the enthusiastic Maxey, who partly realized what her 
feelings were, encouraged her in that hope. It is easy 
to make progress in a work one loves. Before she had 
been under his tuition a month Maxey told Dr. Lamar 
that her copies in crayon and charcoal were something 
marvelous for one whose instruction had been so limited. 
Maxey undertook to paint her face, and she retaliated by 
making a pencil sketch of his features which was won- 
derfully accurate. And so the days were spent. 

One morning Maxey awoke to a realizing sense of his 
situation. He loved. And why not? Was she not 
beautiful, intelligent, refined, virtuous? Was she not in 
verity a woman of all women, such as a man might be 
proud to be able to introduce to his friends as ^^my 
wife?^^ Was she any the less adorable because nobody 
knew the name of her father? Was the fact that she 
was nameless a barrier of a feather^s weight? Not to a 
man like Maxey. 

But yet he hesitated. With all his impetuosity and 
impatience he was accustomed to count the cost of a 
momentous step before he took it. And the alternatives 
presented to him were painful. He had learned some- 
thing of Annette^s character. To place himself in the 
position of a suitor from any reason unacceptable to her 


156 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


was equivalent to driving a friendless girl from the only 
home she had ever known. Not to place himself in the 
position of a suitor was never to know his own fate. 
"When a young man is burning with the intoxication of 
a first great passion this last is not possible. 

So Maxey thought he would wait. And wait he did, 
until he was brought to a sudden resolution in the mat- 
ter in an unlooked for and extraordinary way. 

One afternoon when the artist was alone with his sister 
Ellen she introduced a grave topic. Nevertheless, she 
tried to make her remark seem a casual one. 

Julian, do you know how Doctor Lamar came to be 
engaged 

Maxey looked at her with apprehension. He hesi- 
tated a little before he made his reply. 

^^Not from his own lips, Ellen. I understand, in a 
general way, that it is a family affair. Of course you 
know that. The widow Forsythe is very rich. She is 
understood to be very much in love with Lamar, and his 
mother, who is very anxious for her son^s advancement, 
has set her heart upon it. Exactly how it came about 
no one knows. We know that Eustace was at Newport 
with her last summer, and that the pledges were passed 
toward the close of the season. But what is the use of 
repeating idle talk? I only know what people say, which 
is very poor authority. 

What do people say, Julian?” 

^^Oh, you want that too? Even when it may not be 
true. Well, remembering that it is rumor — scandal per- 
haps is a better word for it — the story is told to me that 
this Mrs. Forsythe, whose husband died while she was 
yet very young and left her with two-thirds of his im- 
mense fortune — that she has always used her great 



TEE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


157 


powers of fascination to break hearts. That has been 
her chief source of amusement and delight for years. 
The story is that Lamar was madly in love with her be- 
fore she married Mr. Forsythe, but that she rejected him 
to make a wealthy alliance with that physical monstros- 
ity. This last summer they met again after a separation 
of years. She showed him unusual favors and did her 
utmost to win him back. It is said that he resisted all 
her advances, but that she finally triumphed by somehow 
enticing his mother on her side. That might be easily 
so with a vain and worldly woman like Mrs. Lamar. 
They go on to say that this Mrs. Lamar hinted and plead 
and argued with her son until finally, to rid himself of . 
persecution, never dreaming that she would accept him, 
he so far forgot his dignity as to ask Mrs. Forsythe one 
evening if she had ever had cause to regret the little ^ no ^ 
she had once given him. She told him ^ yes ^ with a 
warmth and f erver that took his breath away, and he had 
committed himself before he knew it.^^ 

Just as I heard it, Julian. Was it not also said that 
this second proposal was a mockery, so coldly and con- 
temptuously framed, that any woman with a spark of 
self-respect would have taken it as an insult 

Miss Maxey spoke vehemently, with a bright red spot 
in either cheek. The artist moved uneasily in his chair. 
You know, Ellen, of how little value this gossip is.^^ 
Let us not deceive ourselves, Julian. The ^ gossip,^ 
as you call it, comes most directly. I need hardly re- 
mind you that I have a friend who knows this Forsythe 
woman, who was with her last summer at I^ewport, and 
who has seen something of her since. 

^ Indeed cried Maxey; ^^this is news to me. I did 
not know it. Neither do I know Mrs. Forsythe.^^ 


158 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


Said Ellen earnestly: Julian, I kno\y of her, I 

know that she has a terrible, ungovernable temper. I 
do not believe she is a good woman. She would make 
Lamar wretched — more wretched than he is now. This 
match must be broken off. Yes, Julian, it is no longer 
useful to disguise the truth, even if we could. Dr. 
Lamar neglects his business. He neglects it to come 
here. He no longer cares to be first in his profession as 
he used. His reputation as a physician is in danger. 
You have heard, as well as I, that he has refused to take 
important cases, cases which it was in every way for his 
interest to take. You know it, and cannot deny the 
reasons. This woman has him in her clutches, and from 
a false sense of honor, most creditable to himself, he 
refuses to break away. This is the plain truth, as you 
know, and I say again, this match must be broken off 

Every word of this had its effect. Maxey knew too 
well its force and its truth. There was no doubt that 
the philosophic physician had undergone a change in the 
past few months, and there was also good reason to be- 
lieve that Miss Maxey had named the cause. But what 
could the artist do? He replied at last hesitatingly: 

Suppose I say yes, heartily yes, to all that you have 
said, what then? I do not doubt the advisability of 
breaking off the match, but how?^^ 

Who could do it better than yourself, Julian?^^ 
You!^^ Maxey spoke, bluntly but seriously. 

Ellen flashed a startled, apprehensive glance at her 
brother. 

^^You are not treating a serious matter seriously. 
Doctor Lamar has been very kind to us. We have no 
right to let him go blindfolded to a fate worse than 
death. You are his nearest friend. You will, you must 
warn him!^^ 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL, 


159 


My dear sister, I have warned him and plead with 
him. How does he take it? He simply becomes angry, 
makes an admission to me that I am not at liberty to re- 
peat, and forbids me ever again to mention the subject. 
I feel that 1 have cleared my conscience; more, that I 
have done all that it is possible for me to do. Lamar is 
not a man one can advise as if he were a little child. Ho, 
Ellen; seriously, it is your turn.'’^ 

What a preposterous idea? What right have I 

to advise him ? What would he think of me if Oh, 

no, Julian — never! I could not mention the matter to 
him.^^ 

You are not so simple as to suppose I meant that, 
Ellen. You are a woman, and a bright woman. Is is 
necessary for you to say? Act. That is what I mean. 
Teach him. You can do it better than anybody else. I 
have no confidence that this marriage will ever take 
place. Already it has been delayed nearly a year. Who 
do you suppose is to blame for that? Hot she, surely. 
She is said so far to have seen the folly of her youthful 
error that she adores him now.^^ 

Ellen answered him in a low voice: Unfortunately, 

Julian, I happen to know to the contrary. The marriage 
has been postponed at her own request. I have that 
from Lamar's sister." 

Oh, you have!" Maxey regarded her with a fixed 
look. You are so well informed on this subject, Ellen, 
that I do not feel competent to talk with you. Still I 
insist that my advice is good. You women have a 
wonderful power in such matters when you are really in 
earnest. But, dropping that for a time, I have some^ 
thing very serious to say to you. It is to me the most 
serious subject in the world — our Annette." 


160 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


Well, what of our Annette 
I want to make her my wife/^ 

Maxey was quite prepared to see his sister faint, to 
hear her scream, or to give any other extreme vent to her 
feelings, hut he was hardly prepared for entire calmness. 
Miss Maxey started, it is true, and drew a deep sigh, but 
when she did speak there was scarcely a tremble in her 
voice. 

^‘1 am well aware of that, Julian. Why don^t you do 
it?^^ 

For a minute Maxey was too astonished to speak. 

Well aware of it! What do you mean?^^ 

I mean that I discerned it some time ago, Julian. 
You are not artful enough to keep such a matter to 
yourself. I found it out, I dare say before you did, 
and it made me very happy. You want my opinion, my 
brother? I will give it to you. In a worldly way some 
of your friends will say you have made a grave mistake, 
but in your own heart you will always be satisfied and 
happy. She is the most lovable girl I know. She will 
make the best wife in the world,-! am sure of it. I say 
this with all my heart, Julian, with all my heart. 

She tried to speak in a matter of fact tone, but the 
tears came into her eyes. Maxey could hardly conceal 
his delight, though he answered abruptly: 

Pshaw, Ellen! You didn^t think I wished to con- 
sult you about the wisdom of this step. I decided that 
for myself. 

Why then 

Because I want you to advise me — more, to help me. 
You know how sensitive Annette is. If once I place 
myself in the position of a lover before her one of two 
things will happen. She will either accept me or leave 
the house. Now I don^t want her to leave the house.^^ 


THE FACE OF EOSEHFEL. 


161 


Ellen answered him gravely. 

^^But you have no choice, Julian. If she cannot be 
loved by you she 7mcst, she ought to leave the house. 
After what you have said one of these things must be.'’^ 

Ellen, it is a terrible thing to do — to deprive a poor 
girl of her home.^^ 

Miss Maxey was very sober but there was no hesitancy 
or faltering in her reply. 

You are not to blame for loving her. You cannot 
avoid the consequences. Go to her in a manly, straight- 
forward fashion and tell her the truth. 

Tell her the truth; the truth, of course — but — but 
what will she say to the truth 

am sorry, Julian, that I cannot help you. I have 
foreseen this. I have tried to sound her, but on the sub- 
ject of you her lips are sealed.'’^ 

You don’t say so?” cried Maxey, running his hand 
through his hair till it stood up like a maniac’s. What 
does that signify, I wonder?’^ 

It surely does not mean that she dislikes you. Don’t 
ask me to say more. I do not wish that you shall ever 
be able to accuse me of having raised false hopes in your 
mind.” 

And if she does not love me?” faltered Maxey. 

She does love you, Julian.” 

Maxey sprang to his feet. 

Who told you that? How do you know? What did 
you mean then by raising false hopes?” 

To your first question, nobody. To your second, by 
instinct and observation. To your third, it does not fol- 
low that because she loves you she will consent to be your 
wife.” 

Maxey, speechless, stared at his sister. 


162 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


^^Does that seem strange to you? Oh, Julian, you do 
not know her as well as I do. The poor child has poured 
out her whole soul to me. She lives under a constant 
shadow. Yes, you need not start. She does^ and it is 
the shadow of the past. I know you do not see it. She 
always smiles and looks happy when you are with her. 
But depend upon it, she has moments, hours, when she 
broods and sorrows in silence. Julian, she is afraid the 
story of her birth is a story of shame, and that iT it 
were known respectable people would look upon her with 
suspicion; would close their doors against her. That 
there is a doubt is your only chance. The day that it 
becomes a certainty, that day you will lose her forever. 
Mark my word. I have been her mother, in a sense, 
and I know her. She would never disgrace or degrade 
the man she loves. Never! You must persuade her 
that her fears are groundless. 

Indeed, Ellen, I need help in this matter, if I 
ever needed it in my life."^^ 

^^Who can help you?’^ 

^^You.^^ 

No. She would not take advice in such a matter. 
You will best win your own cause yourself. You are a 
man, and a bright man, and you can do it better than 
anybody else. You have a wonderful power in such 
matters when you are really in earnest. My advice is — 
actr 

Miss Maxey arose, smiled benignly upon her brother 
and left the room. 

^^The deuce thought Maxey. ^^She wants to be 
quits with me because I could not aid her with Lamar! 
But this is too serious a matter for trifling; altogether 
too serious. What shall I do?^^ 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


1G3 


CHAPTEE XIV. 


THE KHOCKIHG. 


HE AFTEEHOOX was drawing to a close. Miss 



X Maxey had conveniently absented herself. The 
artist was alone in the rear chamber with his pupil. 
Annette was seated before an easel near the window 
while Maxey was looking over her shoulder, apparently 
at the sketch. She was not working. Her hands lay 
listlessly in her lap, and her eyes were fixed on the gray 
sky above the river. 

Are you studying the effect the artist queried, 
with a smile. 

^^No, Mr. Maxey, I was listening. 

Listening? For what?"^ 

For the wind. Have you never noticed how queeiiy 
it knocks at the window-frames sometimes. This is one 
of the days. When I am working here alone I often 
notice it, and however much I hear it, it never fails to 
startle me.^^ 

^^What, the rattle 

The rap. There is not so much suddenness in the 
rattle. That is not it, for when that happens you think 
of the wind. It is as if the wind did it; but it is not 
so to-day. It is not as if the wind did it at all. There 
is silence, and then comes a sudden dull blow. At first 
I thought somebody must be throwing something against 
the pane, but I found, after a time, that it was only a 
movement of the window-frame. IsnT it curious 


164 


THE FACE OF BOSEirFEL. 


^^Verj. You notice these little things, Annette. 
Do you know, I have worked in this room alone for 
months, and for my part I never noticed whether the 
windows rattled or were still. There! Was not that 
it r 

I did not hear it then. I was listening to you, Mr. 
Maxey. Listen again and it will come. I wish I were 
not foolish enough to be afraid of ifc. Hark!^^ 

In the silence that ensued they could hear each other 
breathing. Perhaps it was nervousness, but Maxey felt 
strangely excited. A low knocking — not the knocking 
they were waiting for — came to their ears through the 
closed door. 

How very odd!^^ exclaimed Maxey. That was not 
the touch of a ghostly zephyr, but the substantial rap of 
ijfomebody tangible who wants to get in.^^ 

^^It must be a timid person who would knock so 
low.^^ 

Probably it is. Some beggar, doubtless. Impecu- 
niousness is occasionally timid. Don^t disturb yourself, 
Annette. 

Maxey stepped into the vestibule and opened the outer 
door. He regarded the man who had summoned him 
there with a look of speechless surprise. It was Mr. 
Dye. There was the woebegone beaver, tho shiny, 
thread-bare coafc, the faded blue eyes, the long hair fall- 
ing over the ears, the smooth face with its expression of 
hapless melancholy, and all that went to make up the 
peculiar group of mental impressions which Maxey had 
learned since the first meeting — now weeks ago — to asso- 
ciate with the name Leander Dye. 

You!’^ was Maxey^s only utterance. 

^^I, sir said the somber voice. Pardon me if I 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEH 


165 


venture to intrude my unseemly presence upon you thus 
abruptly without having prepared you previously by 
timely warning/^ 

Come in/’ said Maxey. 

Mr. Dye hesitated. 

Pardon me if I am constrained to ask an imperti- 
nent question. Are you alone ?” 

1 am not alone in the house. 'No/’ 

But I desire to see only you — no one else. I have 
no wish to meet the young lady who once, bore my name. 
It would be painful for us both.^^ 

You shall see me alone/^ said Maxey. Come in.^^ 
The artist ushered Mr. Dye into the parlor and closed 
the door. Was it that the gloomy presence of the mel- 
ancholy man communicated a depressing influence? 
Maxey certainly felt an unreasonable dread — a sort of 
sinking at the heart — as the door closed and he stood 
there alone with his visitor. 

Mr. Dye stood with his hat in his hand and avoided 
Maxey ^s eyes. He never lifted his glance from the floor. 
The artist noticed that he was more sallow and pallid 
than when he had seen him first; that there was a shaki- 
ness in his whole frame, a palsied tremble in his hands. 
He began at once, and his voice was like one speaking 
out of a tomb. 

Sir, your ears are exceedingly good 

^andeedr 

Or you would not have heard my knock. I knocked 
very softly, as I have knocked at your door so many times 
and you did not hear. I hoped, and hoped in vain, that 
you would again let me go away unheeded as before. 

I don^t comprehend you, sir. Have you been here 
before?"^ 


166 


THE FACE OF BOSENFER 


Sir, I have been here many times before, knocking 
at your door so softly that you might have mistaken the 
sound for the wind or the rattle of a rat behind the 
wood- work. 

Maxey recoiled. 

^^Are you insane 

^^No, no!^^ said Mr. Dye quickly. ^^It is not in- 
sanity. It is not even whimsical. It is, on the contrary, 
strictly logical. Sir, you have heard it said that a man 
cannot serve two masters. I have sometimes tried. 
That was my trouble. One forced me to come and tell 
you something that I knew would be unwelcome to you. 
What shall I call that one? Conscience? — remorse? 
The other caused me to desire that you should not receive 
me, but allow me to go away unheeded. Shall I call that 
other sympathy and regard for yourself or for somebody 
in whom you are interested? Never mind, it is not to 
the point now. Your ears were better than I thought 
they were, and you did hear me. I am here. Sir, w'hy 
did you not take my advice and have me arrested? I am- 
a heartless, miserable wretch 

Theatrical air or not, this last sentence came out with 
a sincerity and a force that startled the artist. The 
trembling in the limbs increased; the somber man made 
an effort to loosen his cravat as if he were choking. 
Maxey hastily pushed a chair toward him. 

Sit down, sir. You are ill.^^ 

Sir, I am not ill. I deny it. I decline all courtesies. 
Do not offer me any. If you do you will regret it when 
I am done. I am to be spurned and spit upon. That is 
my only use in society — and I may mention paren- 
thetically that society found that out some time ago. 
Don^t forget that, sir. I will not detain you. I will not 


THE FACE OF R08EHFEL. 


167 


needlessly keep you standing here. I have come to tell 
you what I neglected to tell you before about this child 
whom I brought up.'^^ 

Well!'"’ ejaculated Maxey nervously. 

Mr. Dye cast an apprehensive glance at the artist. 

Say you do not want to hear me, sir, even now, and 
I will go away, and you nor she shall ever see me again. 
Do you say it?^^ 

Mr. Dye's tone was portentious and beseeching. For 
an instant Maxey hesitated, hut for an instant only. 

Ko, Mr. Dye, I do not say it. Go on, sir. Tell me 
the truth." 

Sir, you have pronounced your verdict. For better 
or for worse, I shall speak now and ease my conscience 
of a bad matter. I told you I did not know this child's 
parentage. I told you a falsehood. I know both her 
parents. One was a scapegrace son of a proud family; 
the other was a servant in his father's house. Now you 
know the whole. I am done." 

The blood rushed to Maxey's head. 

^^The proofs! Where are the proofs?" 

Mr. Dye again glanced at him apprehensively, and 
backed a step or two nearer the door. 

Sir, there are no proofs." 

^^None?" 

Not a scrap. It all rests upon the word of a worth- 
less vagabond, whom nobody would believe; who is in 
fact such a villain and a liar that he can hardly believe 
himself. If you wish to believe that he has lied, there 
is everything to encourage you in that belief, nothing to 
discourage you." 

And why have you come here to tell me this?" 

Did I not explain? I was forced to." 


168 


THE FACE OF BOSEJSTFEL. 


By whom?’^ 

Sir, not by whom — ^by what. By my conscience.'’^ 
Maxey raised his arm with a gesture of impatience. 
The somber man shrank back as if he expected a blow. 
He cried out apprehensively: 

^^Don^t believe me! DonT believe me!^^ 

^^Do you acknowledge it to be a lie?^^ 

No, no. Not that, only — don^t believe me.'’^ 

Dye,^^ said Maxey, suddenly, will you swear a 
solemn oath, here in my presence, that you have told 
me the truth 

Sir, I will not. No oaths! Not to-night! No 
oaths! I have said it, and I will do no more. No, not 
if the sword falls, I will say no more. That is all I 
came to say. I have said it. I will go away again. 

^^Go, then!^^ cried Maxey, hotly. Go, while you 
can with safety get out of my reach; and if ever you 
show your face in this house again, unless you either 
come to confess that you have lied, or hold the proofs of 
what you have said in your hand, you will regret it to 
the last day of your miserable life. Hold on a bit! Not 
quite so fast, my good man. I have not done yet. If you 
ever breathe a word of what you have told me to-day to 

any living soul, and I hear of it 

Maxey did not finish his sentence, but he was all the 
more impressive, for he looked unutterable things. 

Pardon me, sir, the caution is not needed. It has 
cost me much to say it to you. I shall never repeat it. 
But I must, I must warn you that I am not the only 
person who knows this to be the truth. If I had been 
I never should have come. Sir, I thought it was better 
that you should know the whole before — before you took 
any rash step or steps, than hear of it afterward when it 


TEE FACE OF B08ENFEL. 


169 


would be so much more painful to both her and your- 
self. You understand me now?^^ 

Mr. Dye suddenly turned, opened the door which led 
into the vestibule, and glided out. Maxey sprang after 
him, exclaiming: 

^^Stop, sir, stop! I do not — I do not understand 
youT^ 

Maxey reached the vestibule only a second or two be- 
hind his strange visitor, and would undoubtedly have 
dragged him back over the outer threshold, but at the 
very moment when he put out his hand to seize him, he 
heard the rustle of a woman^s dress. He changed his 
intention in the twinkling of an eye. In another in- 
stant Mr. Dye was free, the outer door was closed and 
Maxey, pale and breathing heavily, stood upon the in- 
side with his back against it, facing the astonished An- 
nette, who was coming, quite unconscious of any intru- 
sion, into the vestibule. 

Is anything the matter, Mr. Maxey 

Nothing. Nothing at all. It was a mere You 

startled me, that was all.^^ 

Who has been here?^^ 

^^You do not know, then? You heard nothing of 
what he said?^^ 

Why, how strange you look! How could I?^^ 

I don^t look strange, said Maxey. It^s the bad 
light I^m in. It was nobody you care to know. Let us 
go back to work again. There was something I was go- 
ing to say when I was interrupted. 


Mr. Dye was staggering down the steps, clinging to 
the railing with one hand, looking the persouific^tiou of 


170 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEH 


despair. He muttered as he walked, and crushed, with 
his left hand, a paper in the pocket of his thread-bare 
coat — a paper on which a delicate feminine hand had 
traced these words: 

Prove her a waif, then. If they marry I shall hold 
you personally responsible!^^ 

Doubtless the poor girPs last hope,^^ thought the 
melancholy man, and I have stamped the life out of 
it.^^ 

At that very instant, however, Julian Maxey, the 
artist, was making of these words a hollow mockery. 
He had come back into the room with her and had 
closed the door. That rapid pulse, that Doctor Lamar 
had warned him was so likely to get the better of his 
discretion, w^as at its height. He began to tell her, im- 
pulsively, passionately, before he fully realized it. 

She turned so white and speechless that his heart al- 
most ceased beating. The thought that he had at last 
uttered the irrevocable, fatal words, came to him too 
late to prevent the utterance of his hope and his long- 
ing; but not too late to make the flow of his eloquence 
tremble and die on his lips. He became as mute as she, 
and almost as pale. For a moment they stood close to- 
gether by the window, in the fading light from the 
western sky, looking into each othePs eyes with a mutual 
terror. 

I — I have frightened you,^^ stammered Maxey. 

An undeniable fact, but it was all the artist could 
think to say at that moment. 

Still he could not stand inactive. He sought to take 
the dainty hand which timidly shrank from the contact. 
He grew more persistent when he encountered opposi- 
tion, and concentrated all bis energies on the capturing 


THE FACE OF E08EHFEL, 


171 


of the tremoling member. In another moment it was 
his. Then with a sudden boldness, which astonished 
even himself, he drew her close, close to him. 

He felt her startled heart beating, as if it would 
break, next to his. The unseen hand rapped upon the 
window, but it had no longer any interest or any terror 
for them. 

Oh, Mr. Maxey, let me go!’^ 

No; we must understand each other first. Tell me 
that I am a fool, or a coward, and I will.^^ 

She made him no reply. She struggled a little with 
her baby strength, and gave it up. She was very quiet. 

But still the frightened heart beat wildly, close to his. 
She had not spoken. 

Softly the artist bent down to look into her averted 
face. There was neither anger nor tears there — only the 
paleness and the terror. 

The two hearts were throbbing now in unison. It was 
getting dark. 

Annette he whispered, ^^call me a coward P 
She answered him at last, in a voice that was so low 
and hushed that it hardly sounded natural: 

I have no right to tell a lie. And I have no right 
to mix my life with yours. You are young, ambitious, 
rich, with a future. I have not — not even a name.'^^ 
^^No; I am not rich, Annette. You are mistaken. 
And, depend upon it, your name will be known some 
day, and it will be as good as mine. But what is that to ; 
me? What if you really had no name? I love you for , 
yourself, Annette; for what you are. Annette, would 
you place your happiness against so fiimsy a matter as 
that if I were nameless and you loved me T* 

/^Suppose — suppose some day the truth about me 
should be known, and it should' be — degrading P 


172 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


Annette r 

Ah, you have not thought of that! I have. Oh, I 
have thought of it often — when I awoke at night, or 
when I even dared to dream of such great happiness as 
this 

Her voice died away xo quite a whisper. But those 
low-spoken words did not escape Maxey’s willing ear. 
They thrilled through his whole being as nothing had 
ever done before. 

Ah! then you have dreamed of this happiness, An- 
nette? You will not deny it?^^ 

She hung her head and became scarlet. She said not 
a word. Her very silence was eloquent. But the de- 
lighted artist would not leave her modesty this refuge. 
He felt a wild, delicious joy in the knowledge that the 
radiant little creature, who hung upon his arm was his, 
body and soul. And the knowledge, the certainty, was 
not enough. He thirsted to hear her say it. He per- 
sisted: 

Tell me, Annette, you love me! Is it not so?^^ 

The head sank lower still, and she did not reply, but 
the dark hair moved slightly. A scarcely perceptible 
little nod in the affirmative was all that she seemed will- 
ing to vouchsafe him. 

All at once she roused herself and sought once more 
to break the tender bonds that held her. She fought so 
hard; she seemed so very much in earnest, that Maxey, 
terror-stricken for the result, permitted her to go. 
When she was free she seemed about to leave him, but 
at the very threshold of the room she checked herself 
with sudden impulse, and faced him. It was dusk, yet 
Maxey could see the dainty features. They told him 
plainly enough under what a storm of emotion she was 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


m 

suffering. It seemed as if she had intended to speak, 
but feared to trust her voice. There she stood, like a 
timid fawn, panting and trembling. 

Maxey, hardly knowing what he did, stretched out 
his arms in an imploring gesture. 

She uttered a cry, ran toward him, threw herself into 
his embrace and broke down completely. 

Oh,^^ she sobbed. How I wish I were strong as I 
ought to be» as I thought I was! I had made up my 
mind to tell you ^ no.^ But I cannot. Oh! I cannot do 
it! I should be brave, and I am a coward! For your 
sake I should be willing to break both our hearts if need 
be, rather than you make a mesalliance with me.'^^ 

^^Hot nameless, no,^^ cried Maxey, with unanswerable 
logic, for I will give you mine. If you had a name 
what else could you do but throw it away?^^ 

He bent ovei\ His lips met hers. It was their first 
kiss. She threw her arms about him Avith a sudden 
vehemence, that in some degree revealed to the aston- 
ished artist how truly his sister had spoken when she 
told him that he did not know the depth of that 
emotional nature which he yearned to possess. 

She cried out hysterically: 

Oh! tell me over and over again, till I cannot fail 
to believe you, that when the truth about me is known, 
whatever it be, you will never, never regret this step 
you are taking !^^ 

^^NeverP^ answered Maxey, who had reached a state 
of exaltation beyond any thing he had ever experienced. 
^^I swear itP 


It astonished Maxey to find that nobody was surprised. 
There was little ceremony; no display. It was a very 


i 74 tee face of mosenfee 

quiet marriage in the artistes rooms. Doctor Lamar 
gave away the bride. 

Miss Maxey was excited and cried a great deal^ and 
the physician was very thoughtful. 

In the world there were busy tongues at work. 

One woman, when she heard of this marriage, dashed 
a costly clock upon the floor and made a wreck of it. 

A poor wretch, quivering between a jug of rum and a 
morning paper, saw the notice on the printed page and 
uttered a howl of delight. After that outburst he be- 
came for a long time still and pale, and looked upon the 
dull brown surface of the jug with a gaze that was fear- 
ful and apprehensive. Then he began to mutter to him- 
self: 

Bah! What can it matter? What difference does 
it make? She has no memory; she never will have a 
memory of one dark hour of her life. I am safe; still 
safe for another day of existence — and this."^^ 

He stroked the surface of the jug and shivered at his 
own thoughts. Happy for him that Ms window did not 
look out upon the broad river, and that there was no 
uncanny, ghostly wind to come tapping at his sash in 
the dead of night! 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


175 


CHAPTER XV. 

TIME AKD TIDE. 

M ore than once in the course of this history, it 
has been mentioned that the windows of the 
artistes chambers looked out upon a river. In truth, it 
was almost impossible to be anywhere in Maxey^s rooms 
and escape its presence. He had chosen his suite for 
the free, open prospect it afforded, and he had sketched 
and painted a landscape from this lofty situation a 
dozen times. It mattered not in what part of the house 
one was there was always something to remind him of 
the river. 

The sweeping curve made by the stream just above 
the center of the city, broadened the otherwise narrow 
belt of water into a lake-like expanse, and opened a vista 
of miles to the eye. Over this wide surface the wind 
came and went unopposed. It was ever rattling at the 
windows of the artistes rooms. To awake of a winter^s 
night and hear the uneasy ghost tapping with his chill 
hand for admission, was to be reminded of the icy water 
flowing steadily with the tide down between the great 
stone-walls in the darkness. 

The tide rose and fell in the river for miles above the 
city. In the dead of winter it lifted the solid white sur- 
face, like a marble floor, through ten feet twice a day. 
After a thaw, when the ice broke up, even in Maxey^s 
rooms, could be heard the great blocks grinding against 
the stones, These floating masses driftefl variously, as 


176 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEH 


the tide ran back up the stream, to crowd the narrow 
space between the banks above the sweeping curve, or 
down beneath the bridges and between the hulls of in- 
numerable vessels out to sea. Only in the space contig- 
uous to the house in Ballavoine Place they remained 
stationary. For just here, a configuration in the wall 
gave a whirling motion to the water. The floating 
block that drifted too near this spot was inevitably 
drawn in, and once in there it stayed, pounded up and 
down, up and down against the masonry and the decay- 
ing piles, till it was melted quite away. 

It was a dark and mysterious recess, this little section 
of the river beneath the artisPs windows. Somehow the 
building stood about it in such a way as to cut oJff the 
sunlight, except, perchance, at high-noon. It was al- 
ways gloomy close to the wall. Even when the river 
sparkled brightest in the smiling summer days, just in 
here there was a dreary spot. Here the water swirled 
and did not dance in little waves. Here, too, had once 
been the end of a wharf, or wooden structure of some 
kind. A few of the venerable timbers yet remained 
embedded firmly in the river^s bottom. The blackened 
ends, projecting above the surface deepened the somber 
and forlorn effect. 

The house in which Maxey lived did not rise directly 
from the river wall. It stood back and left a little 
space — a mean and parsimonious space — utilized only by 
housewives for the hanging out of clothes. A high 
picketed fence prevented the contiguity of the river from 
being dangerous. 

Occasionally the janitor of the building, who was sup- 
posed to have a protecting eye for all that appertained to 
it, emerged from the basement where he lived into the 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


m 


yard, to cast about him a reassuring glance. One morn- 
ing in December when he came^ a trifling alteration in 
the familiar prospect caught his attention and aroused 
his wonder. The upper ends of two pickets in the high 
fence were broken short off near the top. One of the 
several pieces lay in the snow at the bottom of the fence; 
the other still hung by a sliver from its place. The 
janitor shook the woodwork, and his mystiflcation was 
increased when he found that the two broken pickets 
were loose. This was such an inexplicable matter that 
he did not cease to wonder at it. After he had ex- 
hausted all his theories and had pursued a fruitless 
investigation till he was forced, from lack of untried 
means, to give it up, being after the time when he made 
the discovery, it would still recur to his mind. Some- 
times he would look suspiciously into the river just with- 
out the fence, as if he more than half believed that it 
might give the explanation for which he sought, if it 
would. But such secrets as it had, the river guarded 
well. The water was very murky and impenetrable just 
here, in the best of times. Soon after the breaking of 
the pickets it put a wall of ice upon its surface, the 
better to keep out prying eyes. But still the two 
broken pickets rose up shorter than their fellows to 
remind the curious janitor of the something unexplained. 

The spring came and the sun melted the ice. It 
lingered in the pool without the fence longer than any- 
where else, as if it were loth to go. For a long time the 
bitter breath of the dying winter and the warming rays 
from the April sky fought for the mastery here. It was 
a terribly chill, melancholy nook, not easily conquered. 

The weeks came and went, and the birds began to sing 
evei; in. JBallayoine Place; but when the last yestige§ of 


178 


THE FACE OF ROSEHFEL, 


ice were gone, the water beyond the picketed fence con- 
tinued black and fathomless. The suspicious janitor 
still endeavored to penetrate its obscure depth, but he 
endeavored still in vain. 

The janitor was right. The river did have a secret. 
The interwoven piles, the rusty spikes and crumbling 
woodwork for months aided to preserve it. One morning 
they gave it up, and all the world knew it. It was a 
ghastly thing to look upon. Little wonder that the 
horrified beholder turned sick and shuddering, away! 


Before this day arrived, the dwellers in the high 
chambers above the river, had opened their eyes upon 
strange things. 


THE FACE OF MOBEHFEL. 


179 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE WIDOW POKSYTHE. 

M AXEY, grave and doubtful, looked at his sister. 

^^You can^t imagine what Lamar wants to do 

now.'’^ 

^^No? What is it 

He wants to bring his — that Mrs. Forsythe here to 
call.^^ 

^^Mrs. Forsythe call? Impossible 
^^No, it is not impossible. It is the fact. I could 
see that Eustace was troubled and reluctant about it. 
It is, evidently, not a pet scheme of his own.-^^ 

Surely she did not suggest it?^^ 

She must have done so. ^ Mrs. Forsythe is very 
anxious to see your wife,^ is the way he put it. ^ I sup- 
pose it would not be out of place for me to bring her 
here some evening?^ 

And what did you tell him?^^ 
told him — well, I suppose I did more than I 
ought. I ought to have had more consideration for you 
and for him. I told him to come by all means. What 
else could I do under the circumstances?^^ j 

^^Consideration for meT cried Miss Maxey, redden- 1 
ing. I don^t know what possible consideration for me 
could urge you to act any differently than you did act. 
The widow Forsythe whom I have heard so much about? 
Why, by all means, let her come. Let her come! and 


180 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, 


the sooner she comes the better. I shall be ready to re- 
ceive her at her own convenience. Be very sure of that 
And ready Miss Maxey was, when the critical time 
approached. Maxey thought he had never seen her 
looking so handsome, with so much color in her cheeks, 
with such a sparkle in her eyes. As they sat in the 
front parlor, under the brilliant gas jets, awaiting the 
coming of the expected visitors, she almost outshone the 
radiant Annette. 

A roll of carriage wheels in the street below; a long 
and breathless pause; a ring at the door bell of the 
artistes suit, which Maxey himself answered; and the 
guests had come. 

Mrs. Forsythe, my friend, Mr. Julian Maxey, Mrs. 
Maxey, Miss Ellen Maxey. What is this? you are pale! 
you are ill, Fostelle! Some water, Julian, quick 

Everybody was startled and alarmed. Everybody, 
except Ellen, seemed more or less in danger of losing 
presence of mind. One moment, a haughty and disdain- 
ful woman in the full bloom of health and strength bow- 
ing in a lofty way to her new acquaintances! The next 
a pale and tottering wretch clinging to the arm of her 
betrothed! The change was too sudden, too unex- 
pected and mysterious not to be powerful in its ellect. 

Thank you, Eustace, said Mrs. Forsythe in a faint 
voice, taking the water, which Maxey had run to bring, 
from the doctor^s hand. She swallowed a little of the 
cooling liquid and declared that she felt better. Never- 
theless, she sank down upon the sofa, whither the 
physician had led her, faint and helpless. 

Lamar bent over her with some solicitude, but more 
wonder. 

Fostelle, are you in pain?^ 


THE FACE OF MOSEHFEE 


181 


at all, Eustace. It is only a little faintness 
that will soon go away.^^ 

He took her hand in his, pushed aside the massive 
gold ornament that encircled her wrist, placed his finger 
upon her pulse, and looked into her face searchingly. 

Shall we take you back to the carriage? Don^t you 
think it would be better to go home at once?^^ 

Mrs. Forsythe was rapidly recovering her color. As 
Lamar spoke her glance wandered in the direction of 
the artisFs sister, who stood by herself, silent and com- 
posed, while all the rest were full of anxiety. A sudden 
gleam of the eyes and compression of lips followed that 
glance. Then she said in a voice which, though it 
trembled slightly, was perfectly clear and audible to 
everybody: 

^^No, I will stay; this is only momentary. DonTyou 
see that it has left me? Sit here beside me, Eustace, 
dear. Pray do not stand any more on my account, Mrs. 
Maxey. Give yourself no more alarm about me. In a 
few moments I shall be quite restored. 

At this everybody sat down. The unusual came to an 
end and the conventional ^^calL^ began. Mrs. Forsythe 
kept her word. In five minutes there was no trace of 
her late indisposition. Ellen Maxey saw with unwilling 
admiration, for her tact and management, the part that 
she had decided to play with regard to herself. By no 
word or look, other than that which the first shock of 
meeting had drawn from her, and which was totally in- 
explicable to the others, did she betray that Ellen was 
any less a stranger to her than her brother or his wife. 
She talked the conventional trivialities to her in the same 
smiling, winsome way in which she talked to the rest. 
For Mrs. Forsythe was no longer haughty and disdainful. 


182 


THE FACE OE EOSEHFEL. 


In truth, as the moments went on and this viva- 
cious and fascinating personage continued to discuss the 
stupid affairs of daily life, with a piquancy and anima- 
tion that made them for the time seem interesting, Ellen 
found it hard to retain her hold on the certain fact that 
this was the same woman who had shivered the costly 
ornament to atoms on the marble floor. Mrs. Forsythe 
seemed to have set before herself the one object of mak- 
ing herself agreeable to her new acquaintances. She 
admired, openly and ecstatically admired, Maxey^s wife, 
and declared that if she had been a man she should have 
fallen in love with her herself. She praised Maxey^s 
taste as an artist, and went into raptures over some of 
his pictures, with which he had ornamented the walls of 
his parlor. She even — such,^^ thought Ellen, ^^is her 
boldness and effrontery — attempted to become a wor- 
shiper at the shrine of the artistes sister, but Miss 
Maxey met all her attempts to win her over with an icy 
reticence which more than once aroused the latent fire 
in the widow^s eyes. 

Doctor Lamar, usually so gay and conversational in 
the artistes rooms, hardly uttered a word. He sat be- 
side Mrs. Forsythe on the sofa, as grave and serious as 
if he had been assisting at a funeral. The difference 
was so marked and so significant that all three of his 
friends were impressed by the fact. It was the last mat- 
ter, under the circumstances, that either Julian Maxey 
or his young wife would have thought of mentioning in 
his presence, but Ellen somehow felt that she had a bat- 
tle to fight with an unscrupulous woman, and that any 
means were justifiable. She took advantage of the 
opportunity afforded her by this fact to plant a covert 
thorn in the breast of her enemy. 


THE FACE OF EOSEHFEL. 


183 


am sure/^ she said, in an audible voice to her 
brother, while Mrs. Forsythe was saying something to 
Annette, ^^the doctor is not well to-night. 

Not well,^^ echoed Maxey. 

^^No; don^t you notice how constrained and different 
from his ordinary self he is? He is usually so chatty 
and agreeable! Some shadow seems to have come in 
with him. What can it be? Is he not happy ?^^ 

^^Hush!^^ whispered the startled Maxey, perfectly un- 
conscious of his sister^s duplicity. ^^She will hear 
you!^" 

^^She. Who? I don^t understand you. Miss Maxey 
addressed herself immediately to Annette. 

Don^t you notice that the doctor is not himself to- 
night, dear?"^ 

^^Oh, indeed, is he not?^^ cried the widow Forsythe, 
turning with an admirable appearance of solicitude to- 
ward her affianced. Do you hear what they are say- 
ing, Eustace ?^^ 

^^No. What?^" 

That you are not at all like yourself to-night. I 
hope you are not going to be ill, too, because of my 
bad example 

I was not aware, returned Lamar, coldly, ^^that I 
exhibited any symptoms of the sort.^^ 

The tone of the reply was so rough and discourteous, 
that the color came into Mrs. Forsythe^s cheeks. She 
bit her lip and her eyes moistened. 

^^She loves him,^^ thought watchful Ellen, with a 
jealous glow at the heart. She loves him. There is 
no doubt of that.^^ 

Lamar seemed to have instantly repented his own 
harshness, for he at once wept on with an assumption o^ 
careless gayey ; 


184 


THE FACE OF ROSEHFEL. 


^^The fact is^ while you have been talking I have 
been dreaming. I may have looked side, but the truth 
is^ I was abstr acted 

Some new theory in practice, I suppose/^ suggested 
Maxey. 

said Lamar, straightening up and making an 
evident effort to be entertaining. It was something 
odder than that — something a good deal more interest- 
ing.” 

^ ^ Of course, that is meant to arouse our curiosity and 
make us beg you to tell us about it, said Mrs. Forsythe, 
playfully. 

don^t know about that,^^ Lamar returned, with a 
slight frown. I am not so sure that I should be justi- 
fied in discussing a professional secret even among 
friends. 

^^IFsa professional secret, then exclaimed Maxey. 

Oh, then we be told! Professional secrets are 
always the most entertaining of secrets. Out with it, 
Lamar 1^^ 

Well,^^ replied the physician, as long as you under- 
stand that it is not a matter to be talked about outside, 
I doiPt know that I need hesitate. Prepare yourselves 
for a most curious and mysterious affair. 

I think I may say that everybody is sufficiently pre- 
pared, said Maxey. ^^Let us have the whole mystery at 
once.^^ 

Dictum factum! You shall. I will save my con- 
science by not calling any names. A certain lawyer of 
this city called at my office this morning, and in a very 
cautious and enigmatical manner informed me that he 
wanted to have my opinion on a matter of vast import- 
ance to himself and others interested, ^ First of all/ 


THE FACE OF EOSENFEL. 


185 


said he, ^ I want to know if you can tell the compara- 
tive age of a scar on the human body?^ To so very 
vague and general a question, I told him I certainly 
could give him no satisfactory answer. ^ Very w^ell,^ said 
he, will postpone my question until after I have pre- 
sented my case. I want you to get into my carriage. I 
will then take you to a place where there is a scar which 
I wish to have examined. I shall introduce you under 
a false name and it is not to be known that you are a 
physician. All you have to do is to assent to everything 
I say, and when I show you the scar scrutinize it as 
closely as you can. Afterward I shall ask you for your 
opinion. I will tell you,^ he went on, ^ that this is a 
most important case, and that you are only one of sev- 
eral prominent physicians whose opinions are to be 
asked. We wish, and intend, to make this matter as 
much of a certainty, and to have it partake as little of 
the nature of guess work as medical science will permit. 
I do not want to conceal anything from you, however. 
There is a bare possibility that at some time or other 
you may be called upon as an expert to repeat the opin- 
ion which you shall give me, in court. If so, we shall 
see that you are amply recompensed for any loss of time, 
or interference with your business that such a necessity 
would occasion. And in view of this possibility, I wish 
you to recollect just how this matter was presented by me 
to you, and that so far from endeavoring to control your 
opinion, I have not even told you whether it would be 

for our interest to find this scar to be old or recent ^ 

Why what is the trouble, Fostelle? You are pale. Is 
your faintness coming on again 

With a sudden effort, Mrs. Forsythe overcame the 
emotion which had made itself so dangerously apparent 


186 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


in her countenance. She forced a smile, and, with 
admirable presence of mind, made haste to turn the 
apprehensive glances of everybody from herself, by re- 
questing Lamar to go on. 

Oh, no, Eustace, you are wrong this time, at any 
rate. I never felt better in my life. Go on, I pray you, 
I am so interested 

The physician, almost forced to disbelieve his own 
eyes, eventually complied with this request. 

After this preliminary,^^ he continued, I got into 
a closed carriage with my enigmatical friend, and was 
driven to a certain place, where I was ushered into the 
presence of as pretty a young lady as you often have an 
opportunity to look at.^^ 

A pretty young lady exclaimed Maxey. You are 
doing very well, Lamar! Proceed. Dor/t spare the 
details. 

Everybody laughed, even Mrs. Forsythe, but Ellen, 
who was watching her with sharp eyes, saw that a new 
and secret terror was coming over her as the doctor 
went on. At his last words her hand trembled visibly. 
Nevertheless, she only raised a handkerchief to her lips, 
and did not speak. 

Lamar continued: ^^^Well,^ said my friend, the 
lawyer, to the young lady, ^ here is Mr. So and So, of 
whom I told you. He was an old friend of your father^s. 
He ought to know you very well. You wonT object to 
his examining you, I suppose?^ The young woman 
laughed, as I thought a little nervously, and said, ^ Oh, 
no, not at all. I have no objection. He may inspect as 
much as he pleases.^ Eather more bold and loud than 
I should have liked, but still not offensive. ^Dark 
hair, you see,^ said the lawyer, ^ isn’t that right?’ ^ Oh, 


THE FACE OF EOSENFEL, 


187 


yes/ said I, ^ quite right/ ^ And black eyes — good 
again, isn^t it?^ ^Oh, yes/ said I, ^perfectly good/ 
And so he went on, making a sort of inventory of her 
distinctive points, much as though she had been a horse 
which he was trying to sell me. And finally, you can^t 
guess what happened. 

They all gave it up, without trying. 

Well,^^ said Doctor Lamar, finally the lawyer per- 
suaded the girl to pull off her stocking and show me her 
left foot^^ 

Mr. and Mrs. Maxey were so intent on what the 
physician had to say that they did not observe Mrs. 
Forsythe; but Ellen saw that she looked really ill, and 
in the midst of it darted a wild, searching, suspicious 
glance into her own eyes. 

^^He made her show me her foot,^^ said the physician, 
and then I saw that one of the toes was missing. Here 
was the scar about which he had so mysteriously hinted. 
^ Well, ^ said he, ^ when we were out of the place once 
more, ^was it old or recent?^ am sure I don^t know 
how to answer that,^ I said with a laugh. ^ Well, can 
you tell me this? Is it eighteen years old ?^ Fostelle, 
you are ill! It is useless for you to deny it. You look 
as though you had seen a ghost. Your face is pale. 
Your hands tremble. I am afraid you are going to be 
sick. We had better go at once.'’^ 

cried out Mrs. Forsythe, in a husky voice, 
donT stop your story at such an interesting point on 
my account! Give your answer to the lawyer first. Old 
or recent, which 

^ By no possibility eighteen years. That was my an- 
swer. 

Mrs. Forsythe rose up with a vehemence that startled 


188 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, 


them all. She looked at Ellen with an expression of 
ungovernable rage, and then at the bewildered physician. 

Dr. Lamar/^ she cried, has that low-lived, false- 
hearted chit of a girl, there, set you on to tell what you 
have told?^^ 

Lamar was on his feet in an instant. 

^^Mrs. Forsythe he said, in a terrible voice, ^^are 
you mad?” 

His look calmed the rising tiger in the woman in an 
instant. For a minute she gazed into his face, and 
then her expression changed from rage to terror. Be- 
fore them all she threw her arms about his neck, crying 
out: 

^^Oh, Eustace, Eustace, forgive me; I don^t know 
what I have been saying!” and fainted in unmistakable 
earnest. 


THE FACE OF BOSEFFEL. 


18*9 


CHAPTEE XVII. 

MISS MAXEY TRIES AGAIM. 

T he next morning two letters passed by messenger 
between Ballavoine Place and Doctor Eustace 
Lamar’s office. Here they are, in the order of their 
transmission: 

My Dear Friend. — I have a request to make to you, 
which you may think strange and extraordinary; the 
more so, perhaps, because I cannot explain to you now 
the reasons why I make it. Ido not know that you will 
feel justified in giving me the information that I desire 
to ask, but I can only tell you that whether you grant 
or refuse it, it shall be a matter entirely between our- 
selves. Nobody shall ever know that you have told 
me — not even my brother. In excuse for this very bold 
letter, I can only plead the interest I have in the wel- 
fare and happiness of those very near and dear to me. 
I am sure Doctor Lamar will not think that it is any 
girlish whim on my part that leads me so to presume upon 
the brotherly interest he has always shown toward me. 
If you could tell me the name of that lawyer of whom 
you spoke last night, it would aid me greatly in an al- 
most hopeless fight I have undertaken. That is all. 
Neither Julian nor Annette is in my confidence in this 
matter. I do this on my own individual responsibility, 
without the knowledge of anybody in the wide world. 
How is Mrs. Forsythe this morning? I trust she has 
fully recovered from her indisposition of last evening. 

Your true friena, 

Ellen Maxey. 


To Doctor Eustace Lamar. 


190 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 




My Dear Miss Maxey. — I reply to your request 
without an instant^s hesitation. The name of the law- 
yer is Frederick Bornstein, and his office is at 90 Park 
Kow. I know that you will respect this confidence. 
All that I wisli to caution you against is your own 
enthusiasm. Pray do nothing rash_, my dear Miss 
Maxey. I trust you will always look upon me as your 
friend, and that you will not hesitate at any time to ask 
me anything that is in my power to grant. Eest assured 
I shall do it. Mrs. Forsythe is quite ill. She desires 
me to apologize for her wild words last night. She says 
that she was suffering excruciating pain all the evening, 
and said what she did in a delirium brought on by too 
great and continuous self-restraint. She will convey 
her apology in person, when she is sufficiently recovered. 

Yours now, as always, 

Eustace Lamar. 

In the afternoon of the same day in which Miss Maxey 
received this answer, she donned her street garments 
and went out. 

She walked directly to Park Row, and in response to 
her inquiries, was shown into the presence of a little 
grey-haired old man with bright eyes, who received her 
with most scrupulous politeness, in an inner room open- 
ing off the main office. 

^^Mr. Bornstein?^^ said Ellen, coming to business 
without delay, I must throw myself upon your mercy. 
I mean to say that my visit to you is strictly private. It 
is not known even to my nearest relatives. 

^^Give yourself no uneasiness, Miss,^^ said the old 
gentleman, shutting the door very carefully. Listen- 
ing to confidences is a part of my trade. These walls 
have no ears.^^ 

I must first introduce myself to you, sir. I am Miss 
Ellen Maxey. My brother, Mr. Julian Maxey, is an 
artist, and lives at No. 20 Ballavoine Place/^ 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 


191 




I am very pleased to know Miss Maxey. Pray do 
not stand. Seat yourself^ seat yourself. Miss Maxey. 

The polite old gentleman dusted a chair with great 
diligence, and drew it invitingly into the middle of the 
floor, beside the green-covered table. 

Ellen sat down, and the lawyer followed her example 
by taking a seat in his office chair, on the other side of 
the table. 

Now, my dear young lady,^^ he chirped in a cheerful 
little voice, donT be at all afraid to free your mind to 
me. Say whatever is in your heart to say, and say it as 
though you were talking to your most confidential 
friend. 

Thus encouraged. Miss Maxey began at once. 

I am not sure, sir, that you will not be inclined to 
think me insane before I have done. I have no advice 
to ask, no suspicions to communicate. I have simply 
come here to tell you some facts which have come under 
my own personal observation, because I believe there is 
at least a possibility that they may be of great interest 
to you. If not, I shall have done my duty, and have 
freed my conscience. 

The lawyer looked at her with a bland smile, and 
inclined his head, encouragingly. 

^‘1 have only one request to make,^^ Miss Maxey went 
on, and that is that you will never tell anybody, what- 
ever the result of this interview may be, that I came 
here to see you.'’^ 

The polite lawyer assured her again that her confidence 
should be respected. 

Then,^^ said Ellen, I will begin at once with what 
I came to say. Do you remember the sensation in the 
papers, last December, about the nameless girl who was 


192 


niE FACE OF BOSEJVFEL. 


found caught on a point of rock beneath Somerset sea 
road 

Seems to me I do recollect seeing the headlines. I 
am very sure I did not read the articles. 

Briefly^ sir, it was this. We found the poor child 
caught on a point of rock below the road, in front of 
the hotel at Somerset, and brought her home with us — 
my brother and myself. Her mind was gone, but an 
operation restored her, and she is now my brother's wife. 
But that does not matter. All that I thought might 

possibly interest you, is this There was, there 

must have been, some conspiracy to kill her for some 
unknown motive. She had been brought up by a most 
extraordinary man, named Leander Dye, who made no 
pretence of being her father, but who told us he did not 
know her parentage.” 

Leander Dye, eh? Allow me to inquire. Miss 
Maxey, if he is a shabby genteel individual who looked 
as though he were continually recovering from a de- 
bauch ?” 

You could not have described him better, Mr. Born- 
stein.” 

I know him, then. DonT let me interrupt you.” 

Perhaps the fact that I am going to tell you, and 
which I came particularly to tell you, is known to you 
already, through the papers. This poor girl without a 
name had, by some accident, been deprived of one of 
the toes of her left foot.” 

The devil you say!” cried the little old gentleman, 
jumping up in a state of great excitement. He recov- 
ered himself almost immediately. Oh, I beg a thous- 
and pardons. Miss Maxey. Pray excuse any roughness 
which you may have observed in my language. The 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL, 


193 


truth is, you startled me when I was thinking of some- 
thing else. I do occasionally get to dreaming, you know. 
Can’t help it — old habit of mine. And something you 
said brought me back to the reality, too suddenly. What 
were you saying? Something about an accident? Pray 
go on. Don’t mind me. Pray go on.” 

The lawyer again seated himself, but he no longer 
directly faced Miss Maxey, and he shaded his face with 
his hand. 

There is no need, sir,” resumed the artist’s sister, 
of my entering into details, until I learn whether all 
this has any interest for you. I will go on at once to 
another fact, and one which I now acknowledge for the 
first time. My brother, having been persuaded to give 
up an investigation into Mr. Dye’s strange relations with 
the girl he had brought up as his child, I took it upon 
myself to look into the matter as well as I could. One 
afternoon, some weeks ago, I availed myself of a good 
opportunity to do the very unladylike thing of follow- 
ing Mr. Dye through the streets. I saw him go into the 
house of Mrs. Fostelle Forsythe, on Livingston Street.” 

Ah!” The lawyer did not say more, but he uttered 
this ejaculation in a short, dry, significant manner, as if 
he meant to say: ‘^1 thought as muchP He fixed his 
bright eyes keenly on Miss Maxey’s face. 

"Sllen thought she detected distrust and suspicion in 
xiis glance. 

Yes, Mr. Bornstein, he remained in that house for 
some hours. When he came out, I went in. I was mis- 
tat en by the servant for a female physician, and con- 
ducted at once to a chamber on the second fioor. There 
I found Mrs. Forsythe and a young girl about twenty 
years old, who looked enough like her to be her own 


i94 


THE FACE OF UOS^NFEL. 


child. This same girl I had previously seen driving out 
with Mrs. Forsythe that very afternoon. She was now 
lying on a bed under the influence of ether. Prom 
what I saw I judged that her feet were hare, and there 
were spots of blood on the sheets that covered them. 
There was a red-hot curling-iron in some coals, and 
the smell of scorched flesh in the room.^^ 

The lawyer suddenly removed the hand with which he 
had been shading his face, and struck his closed fist 
forcibly upon the table: 

^^ Stop! stop he cried in a little, sharp voice, very 
unlike his former urbane tones. I^m a plain man. Miss 
Maxey, and an old lawyer. State your claim in plain 
words, plain words. Miss Maxey; I have dealt with some 
hundreds of similar cases in the last fourteen years, and 
I feel entirely competent to deal with this one. This 
beating about the bush may do with a younger man, but 
it will not do with me. Tell me at once, frankly and 
fairly, what are your claims? That^s the best way; 
much the best way. What are you after? What do you 
know about the Forsythe case? What is your attitude 
and the attitude of those whom you represent ?^^ 

Miss Maxey returned the keen gaze of the little twink- 
ling eyes, which accompanied the delivery of this speech, 
with a look of astonishment and utter mystification. 

^^Unfortunately, Mr. Bornstein,^^ she said, you 
have forgotten what I said to you when I came here — 
that I know nothing whatever of this matter except the 
facts that I have told you. I am very sure that I never 
in all my life heard of the Forsythe case."^^ 

The old gentleman looked at her non-plussed, but still 
incredulous. 

^^Oh, come now, come,^^ he said, in a milder tone. 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


195 


^^that^s impossible. Miss Maxey; that^s quite impos- 
sible P 

^^Very well, then, Ellen replied, quietly. Then 
the impossible is for once the truth. I have told you all 
that I know.^^ 

^^Then why should you come here?^^ 

will tell you, sir. Almost every day since I saw 
that, to me, inexplicable scene in Mrs. Eorsythe^s cham- 
ber, I have been trying to invent some theory to account 
for it. Last night I heard — never mind what. For I 
cannot tell you that without betraying a confidence. 
But I heard something which seemed a possible explana- 
tion, and as your name was mentioned in connection 
with the mysterious affair, I came to you.'^^ 

In other words, somebody told you about the new 
claim set up by Miss Stevenson 

^^Xo, sir. I never heard that name before. My in- 
formation had reference only to a left foot and missing 
toe.^^ 

A light seemed to dawn upon the lawyer^s mind. 

Oh, I see; some doctor has talked. Very well, very 
well. That may be, that may be. I may have to apol- 
ogize to you. Miss Maxey, for my rudeness; but if you 
knew how I have been bothered and worried over this in- 
terminable affair, you wouldnT wonder. I certainly 
shall avail myself of your information. I certainly shall 
examine into it, and in the meantime, despite the un- 
fortunate improbability which it bears on its face, do 
my best, for the sake of your ladylike ways and honest 
appearance, to believe what you have told me. Now, 
surely, that is honest, and candid, and fair. Miss Maxey? 
This is treating you candidly, isnT it?^^ 

Miss Maxey reddened. 


196 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL, 


I certainly cannot blame you for your suspicions/^ 
she said. 

Never mind/^ said the old gentleman, who had been 
watching her keenly; I will not wait for time to set 
you right. I will commit myself now, apologize at once, 
place implicit confidence in your story, and invite you 
to a ride in my carriage. Will you go?^^ 

echoed Miss Maxey, in bewilderment. do 
not understand you. Where Avould you take me?^^ 

I would take you to call on Miss Stevenson, for the 
purpose of seeing whether you can identify her.^^ 

But who is Miss Stevenson 

Never mind that. You will know her if you have 
seen her before, if not, not. Will you go?^^ 
will go. 

The lawyer stepped into the adjoining room and 
spoke to an ofiice boy. In ten minutes a carriage was 
at the door. 

Miss Maxey was driven by the gray-haired old gentle- 
man to a respectable house in a quiet street. She fol- 
lowed him up the stairs to the second-story. 

There, in a cheerful room, seated in an easy chair, 
her feet upon an ottoman, reading a novel, was the 
pretty girl whom Miss Maxey had first seen in the car- 
riage with Mrs. Forsythe, the afternoon she had fol- 
lowed the somber Dye. 

Well, chirped the lawyer, when they were , in the 
carriage once more; ^^yes or no; do you know her?^^ 

She is the same girl whom I saw on the bed in Mrs. 
Forsythe^s room.^^ 

The old gentleman turned his head, for the evident 
purpose of concealing the tell-tale expression of his 
face. 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, 


197 


Shall I drive you to your door. Miss Maxey? No? 
I will set you down at the head of the street then? It 
will be safer, perhaps. Don^t thank me. Miss Maxey. 
The obligation is overwhelmingly on my side. Eest as- 
sured that you shall hear from me more to the point be- 
fore many days have passed. 

A week later Miss Maxey received this letter: 

My Dear Miss Maxey. — Yours of the twentieth re- 
ceived. I have carefully examined the memoranda of 
the events in Ballavoine Place, which you left for me 
yesterday afternoon, and I am sorry to say I do not see 
my way at all clear in this matter. I am afraid we have 
before us a very serious task. So far as the Stevenson 
case is concerned, I do not think I shall have a great 
deal of difficulty, with your aid, to prevent it being 
brought into court. But there it drops. As for clear- 
ing up the mystery of the sea-road, the more I examine 
into it the less satisfactory the theory that I broached to 
you seems to me. I can see no way out of this labyrinth, 
except by the most violent and extreme measures. The 
failure of the one person, who, if my theory were cor- 
rect, would profit by the removal of the victim of that 
dastardly affair, to set up the claim which he could so 
easily have rendered valid, is the great and insurmount- 
able stumbling-block. Can we arrest Mr. Dye, Miss 
Stevenson and Mrs. Forsythe on any such flimsy evi- 
dence of conspiracy as we possess? Most certainly not, 
though we might possibly frighten them effectually, as 
you suggested. But I, who know more of the Forsythe 
case than you do, tell you frankly that I seriously doubt 
whether any one of those three persons are directly con- 
cerned in the matter that interests you, and it is entii'tly 
possible that it is absolutely unknown to them. There- 
fore I write this letter to caution you to be superlatively 
discreet and careful not to say a word to anybody which 
might betray our suspicions in this matter. Our only 
way is to wait patiently and to watch closely. But I 


198 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


want to say to yon, as I said to you before, that there is 
one person who, without a doubt, holds the key 
of the whole mystery in her hands. I mean your sister- 
in-law. I do not know enough about the medical part 
of the case to know whether I do not murmur against 
the inevitable, but it does seem as if all that stood be- 
tween us and a most vivid ray of light is her lack of 
memory of events during her sickness in your house. Is 
it not possible to stimulate her recollection of that night 
when the strange assault on yourself occurred, so that 
we may at least know who was in the room? At any 
rate, it would do no harm to try. Question her cau- 
tiously but carefully. I will write again in a few days. 

Your very obedient servant, 

Fbederick: Boriststeik. 

Alas!^^ sighed Miss Maxey. Alas, he asks for the 
impossible 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


199 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE PICTURE. 

E xcellent! Excellent was Maxey^s admiring 
cry. 

Doctor Lamar adjusted his eye-glass to have a better 
look at it. The chandelier blazed at its fullest in the 
front parlor. The picture was placed on an easel in the 
projecting- window space, and all four stood back a little 
way to behold it. Miss Maxey’s arm was about An- 
nette’s waist, and she expressed the sentiment the work 
had awakened in her by an occasional admiring squeeze. 
Maxey was simply radiant. Doctor Lamar was impressed, 
but puzzled. Mrs. Maxey appeared both pleased and 
frightened by the warmth of the reception of her latest 
attempt. 

It was a life-size sketch, in crayon, of a strong and 
characteristic face, somewhat shadowy and ghost-like in 
its effect, but so bold and striking in conception and ex- 
ecution that it commanded and held the attention. 

^^I don’t know so much about the technique of art as 
I ought,” commented Doctor Lamar, ^^but it strikes me 
that you have handled your subject remarkably well, 
Mrs. Maxey. Notwithstanding the curious, vague and 
misty atmosphere which you have managed to throw 
about it, the picture impresses you as a reality.” 

^'That’s it, exactly!” exclaimed Maxey. ^^That is 
just the soul of true art. It is a recreation of nature. 
I claim that this is a masterpiece. I shall take it to the 


200 


THE FACE OF JROSEJSTFEL. 


studio to-morrow and hang it up in a conspicuous 
place/^ 

Mrs. Maxey started. 

^^Oh, no! Don^t do that, please.^^ 

Why not, I should like to know?^^ 

Because I would rather you did not.*^^ 

Doctor Lamar turned from a contemplation of the 
picture to a wondering scrutiny of the young wife^s fea- 
tures. There was an unmistakable scared look in her 
face. 

Why, you silly little goose exclaimed Maxey, with 
a laugh. What are you afraid of?^^ 

Oh, I^m not afraid; only I would rather not have 
this picture put up in a public place. It is better to 
wait until I have done something more worthy. 

ISTonsenser’ said Maxey. This is one of your at- 
tacks of modesty. You will think better of it in the 
morning. 

^^And this is nobody^ s face?^^ questioned Lamar, 
gravely. His eyes were still fixed on the young wife^s 
features. 

A fancy sketch, simply, returned Maxey. ^^That 
is why I think so highly of it. I call it remarkable. 

It is remarkable, agreed Lamar. Where did you 
get the idea, Mrs. Maxey 

The scared look on her face deepened, but she forced 
an uneasy laugh, and replied: 

What a question! How does anybody get an orig- 
inal idea?^^ 

Pure originality is a delusion,^^ said the philosophic 
physician. We could trace the most startling innova- 
tions, if we had the means at hand. But in this case 
J^ou must be able to tell when you first saw this face 


THE FACE OF E08ENFEH 


201 


which you have put upon the canvass. Did you sit 
down to sketch with any definite idea in mind^ or did it 
come to you as you were drawing it?^^ 

Oh, the face was in my mind before I thought of 
sketching it.^^ 

When did you first become aware of its being in 
your mind?^^ 

How ridiculous 

Mrs. Maxey again laughed nervously. 

Doctor Lamarrs steady gaze had confused her. Her 
glance was averted. Her whole appearance indicated 
that this persistent questioning was extremely distasteful 
to her. 

Maxey and his sister naturally attributed all this 
wholly to her natural shyness. 

What are you up to now, Eustace laughed Maxey. 
^^Some new metaphysical theory, I suppose. Haven^t 
you done experimenting on my wife yet?^^ 

WhateA er his theory was, or however great his desire 
for experiment. Doctor Lamar kept it to himself. He 
voluntarily changed the subject by reminding them 
that Miss Maxey had promised to sing. 

They went into the back room to gather around the 
piano, leaving the portrait under the full glare of the 
gaslight. 

Later in the evening the door softly opened and Lamar 
came in. He wanted to see this strange picture, alone 
and undisturbed. He stood back, looking at it. In 
that steady light the ghost-like face seemed to float, as 
through a misty space. 

What was it that made it so remarkable? For it 
was a remarkable face. The features were stern and 
grim, fixed and full of hard lines, It was not that, It 


202 


THE 'FADE DF MOSENFEL. 


was the face of a man of strong character. It was the 
embodiment of relentlessness and determination. It 
was not that. It spoke volumes for the mental strength, 
hut never a word for tenderness or veneration. It was 
an utterly unscrupulous face. It was not that. The 
eyes glared. The lips parted as if the breath came too 
quickly for the nostrils alone. 

Ah, that was it! The expression! No man ever 
sat for his portrait with his features cast in a mold 
such as this. This made the novelty and the strange- 
ness. It was such a look as the human face sometimes, 
in great emergencies, in a time of high pulse and ex- 
citement wears, for a fleeting instant. Nowhere out- 
side of a mad-house could it become fixed and change- 
less. 

Yes, that was it, indeed. The peiq)etuation of the 
expression of a moment, like the work of instantaneous 
photography, with all the latent power and sense of 
breathlessness that such a fact involves. 

The brows were contracted into a deep scowl. The 
thin lips seemed almost to quiver, and with its staring 
eyes and changeless look, in the glare of the gaslight, 
this fearful countenance seemed to float on through 
space. 

The sound of music came from the other room. 
Miss Maxey was singing the Ave Maria. 

Doctor Lamar felt himself safe from interruption. 
An odd fancy, suggested perhaps, by the peculiar 
character of the subject, came to him. He reached up 
and turned off the gas jets, one by one, till but a single 
light remained. He reduced this until it was the 
feeblest spark, and stepped back to see the effect. 

There was a fire in the open grate. The light of the 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL, 


203 


coals flickered and fell, and the room was full of 
shadows. But the face! Truly the lip quivers! And 
the eyes! Did they not move? The scowl! Does it 
not deepen? Surely, this cannot be water through 
which it looks? But a moment ago it was space. Now 
it seems as if the tide were flowing — the steady and 
relentless tide — and as it flows its ceaseless motion causes 
the soft flesh to tremble; the eyes seem to grow hollow, 
to fade away, leaving untenanted cavities; and, as this 
happens, the quivering lips break into a mocking leer. 
A flerce breath from the unseen river rises, to rap with 
a hollow rattle at the windows. The sound breaks the 
spell. 

Horrifled at his own sensations, Lamar turned and 
hurried from the room. 


When Doctor Lamar rejoined the parry in the next 
room, he found Mrs. Maxey in tears. 

^^Did you notice how affected she was?^^ Ellen asked 
him in an undertone. 

^^By what?'^ 

By the singing of Schubert^s ^Ave Maria.-' Don't 
you remember, it was the song that made her faint in 
the old days? I have never sung it sinc«. Somehow I 
thought of it to-night, and immediately we found her 
crying. And it seems it was something her mother 
used to sing." 

^^Ah? Doctor Bently was right then. It was a 
reminiscence." 

There was a knock at the door. Maxey answered it. 
He closed the entrance to the rear chamber after him, 
and turned up the gas in the vestibule before he opened 
it to his visitor. 


204 


TEE FACE OF EOSENFEL. 


He was seized with a sudden trembling at the knees, 
when he saw who that visitor was. Paler, ghastlier, 
more funereal than ever, the melancholy Dye, whose 
woe-begone hat and thread-bare coat exhibited a still 
deeper shade of desolation, stood upon the threshold. 

You again 
^^Sir, again. 

^^In spite of all that I told you?^^ 

^^Sir, I have borne your instructions well in mind. 
I have forgotten nothing. It remains for you to say 
whether you will admit me or no.^^ 

Mr. Dye did not look at Maxey when he addressed 
him. In truth, he did not seem to have energy or 
spirit enough left to raise his head, and he certainly did 
not appear at all anxious to be invited into the room. 

The growing conviction that this man was not the 
prime mover, but only the instrument in the hands of a 
more powerful personage who kept himself always in the 
back ground, leaped to a most mature stage in the 
artistes mind. 

Admit you!^^ he exclaimed, suppressing the tendency 
to loudness in his tones, for fear of reaching the ears in 
the adjoining chamber. ^^That I shall do most cer- 
tainly, since you have come. Walk in, Mr. Dye, and 
state your business, and let us see if we cannot come to 
something approaching a mutual understanding. That 
is a point which we have too long been dodging about, 
Mr. Dye, and I have a very distinct idea that it would 
be well for us to reach it to-night. 

The somber man raised a look of mild inquiry to the 
artistes face — said simply, ^^as you will,^^ and passed 
into the parlor. 

Maxey closed and locked the door, and turned on two 
of the gas jets. 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL, 


205 


Then he noticed that Mr. Dye was trembling. It was 
a chilly evening and it occurred to him that the thread- 
bare coat could not be very warm. 

^^You are cold, man, he said. Draw up here by 
the fire.^^ 

He placed a chair, as he spoke, in front of the open 
grate. Mr. Dye bowed gravely: 

Sir, I thank you."" 

He had looked only at Maxey himself. He sat down 
with his back to the picture, and began at once to warm 
his hands over the coals. He did not wait for the artist 
to question him, but immediately, with his most oratori- 
cal air, began: 

‘^Sir, you are doubtless exceedingly surprised — and, 
may I venture also to add, not inconsiderably annoyed? 
by my reappearance in this house. When I went away 
from here, sir, you adjured me, upon pain of personal 
injury, never except upon certain conditions, to appear 
in your presence again. But at the risk of that personal 
injury, I have once more, and for the last time, come. 
Upon a former occasion I might have feared you, but 
strange and paradoxical as it may seem, now that I am 
much weaker and less capable of self-defense, I no 
longer dread the violence of your resentment."" 

Well, said Maxey, impatiently, as he paused, ^^have 
you come here to challenge me? If not, please come to 
the point."" 

Sir, you must pardon me, but I cannot be abrupt. 
Before I come to the. point I want to prepare you for 
what I am going to say, by recalling, perhaps unneces- 
sarily, a fact to your mind. Sir, I told you on a former 
occasion, that I was a contemptible rascal. Bearing 
that in mind, my business here tomight will not very 


206 


tse face of EOSEF’PEL. 


mucli surprise you. Lost to honor and self-respect and 
to every sentiment which makes a man a man, you will 
not be astonished when I tell you what I have come to 
tell. If, when I have told it, you wish to throw me to 
the street and break every bone in my worthless body, I 
shall not resist you. In fact, I could not if I would. I 
am too weak. Observe, for instance, that.^^ 

He extended toward Maxey one of his lean and sallow 
hands. It shook like a leaf. 

That is the effect of the whisky. As long as money 
remains to me to purchase oblivion I do not care for 
luck or the devil. I am one of those uncongenial, soli- 
tary individuals who retire with a jug into an obscure 
place, lock the door and hide the key from myself. 
After I have became a maniac, a fool and an inanimate 
brute by turns, I emerge again into the light, more 
emaciated, more broken down, one step nearer the much- 
to-be-desired rest that comes at the end for us all. A 
cheerful life, sir, is it not?^^ 

He turned his faded blue eyes with the bloodshot 
corners towards the startled artist, who vouchsafed him 
no reply, and continued: 

Sir, you are saying to yourself, ^is this man seeking 
to excite my sympathy? or what is his object? What 
possible interest does he think I can have in his grue- 
some narrative?^ Very little, sir, indeed; only it will 
afford some excuse for me, perhaps, for the performance 
of the most heartless and despicable act of my whole 
accursed existence. 

Mr. Dye uttered the last words savagely and vehe- 
mently. His speech, indeed, sounded so much like the 
mutterings of a broken intellect, that Maxey involun- 
tarily drew back a pace or two. 


THE FACE OF ROSEHFEL. 


m 


Mr. Dye did not heed him. He went on: 

You behold in me^ Mr. Maxey, a man who believes 
in a remorseless destiny — a destiny which may be as 
obnoxious to the victim as a bed of torture^ as plain 
before him as the noon-day sun^ and which still he can- 
not escape. He sees the little steps which lead to the 
great end, in the distance, presenting themselves one 
after the other before him, and he knows that if he 
fails to take any one of them, the whole end would be 
changed; but still he never fails to take them. Sir, that 
is my life — my religion, if you will. And so I am here, 
impelled by the same inexorable fate which has pursued 
me from the first, and which will pursue me to the close, 
to bring a shame and an unhappiness into the midst of 

joy/^ 

^^Well, sir, what is it? I am quite prepared by this 
time for anything, Mr. Dye. I do not fear anything 
you can say.^^ 

Sir, you are too confident of that. When I last 
came you asked me for proofs of the shameful story 
that I told you then. I have brought them.^^ 

There was utter silence, and then Maxey advanced a 
step and said, in a quiet voice: 

Well, sir, I am waiting for you.^^ 

Mr. Dye did not look up. He put his trembling hand 
solemnly into the breast of the thread-bare coat and 
drew forth a little package of paper. Maxey took it, 
and saw that it consisted of two documents, of a legal 
aspect, which were variously superscribed: -^Affidavit 
of Mary Stevenson and ‘ ^ affidavit of George Stevem 
son.^^ 

Maxey compressed his lips and looked no further. 

^^Ahr^ murmured the wretched Dye, ^^if you only 
knew what I have purchased by placing these accursed 


208 


THE FACE OF ROSENFeL 


papers in your hand, you would not think of me here- 
after with so much bitterness/^ 

Mr. Dye,^^ said Maxey, suddenly, ^^the time to drop 
this mask of yours is fully ripe?"^ 

The somber man half turned in his chair. 

Sir, I fail to understand you.^^ 

^^No? Suppose that I were to tell you that I know 
who sent you here?^^ 

The words had a marked effect on Mr. Dye. He in- 
stantly completed that which the former question had 
caused him to begin, and turned wholly about in his 
chair, facing the artist with an ashy countenance. As 
he did so his eye fell upon the picture. 

Maxey noticed his sudden silence, though he imper- 
fectly understood the cause. 

Mr. Dye sat in his chair without motion, his faded 
eyes wide open, looking intently at the portrait on the 
easel. 

There would have been complete silence in the room 
but for the ticking of the clock on the mantel, the 
escape of the burning gas, the distant sound of voices 
in the rear chamber. 

Then Mr. Dye arose, steadying himself on the chair- 
back with his shaking hand — arose, and turning his 
eyes on Maxey, held out his free arm in a questioning 
way toward the easel: 

What is the matter? Are you ill? I don^t under- 
stand you. That is a picture my wife sketched.^'’ 

A terrible trembling came upon every portion of the 
somber man^s frame. He cried out in a hoarse voice: 
^^The Jew^s face! The Jew^s faceT^ 

There was a rush like the breath of unseen wings 
from over the darkened river. The ghostly hand rapped 
at the window, and Mr. Dye fell down upon the floor. 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL, 


209 


CHAPTEE XIX. 

THE LIOK AHD THE CUR. 

M AXEY^S first impulse was to call assistance, but 
the discovery that Mr. Dye had not wholly lost 
consciousness deterred him. By the aid of wine which 
he was able to procure without exciting any suspicion as 
to the use he would make of it, he succeeded in resusci- 
tating the stricken man. After swallowing the contents 
of several glasses, Mr. Dye was able to sit, or rather to 
recline upon the sofa, and to speak. His first dread was 
of the portrait. His first utterance was: 

^^Turn the accursed thing away from meT^ 

Maxey moved the easel about, but even then the faded 
eyes would occasionally wander in that direction, with a 
look of uneasy suspicion, as if he more than half mis- 
trusted that it was able to turn back upon him of its 
own volition. 

The somber Dye was utterly crushed. The theatrical 
air and oritorical fiourishes, which even in his most ear- 
nest moments he had never wholly forgotten, had van- 
ished; but the despair in his face was deeper than ever. 

He asked Maxey to draw the center-table, on which 
had been placed the decanter of wine, closer to him that 
he might reach it without assistance. Frequently, a 
nervous tremor would shake his whole frame, and then 
he would seize the glass and swallow a mouthful with 
the desp§rate §nergy of a man who was fighting Ins la§t 


210 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL. 


fight. Meanwhile, he talked, rapidly, fiercely, like one 
in a delirium. 

Why do you have that here? Why was it necessary 
for you to scare me to death? You certainly could sus- 
pect nothing. You told me that she drew that face. I 
should have seen through the humor of that joke. Ha! 
ha! ha! Bright of you, wasn^t it? You are so much 
craftier than you look, sir. But you weren^t crafty 
enough to detect me in playing a part the first day I 
came here. Say, you never would have believed that I 
had been in this house before, would you? Didn^t I do 
my part well? Ask Belfry if I showed the least tremor; 
if I faltered in my step when I saw the house into which 
he was taking me? I am strong, but I cannot bear 
everything. But the picture? You bought it, of 
course! Of course, you bought it! Why did he have 
his face drawn like that? It^s the expression I am talk- 
ing about. The eyes! the eyes! There! There, it is 
around again looking at me. Turn it about, I tell you! 
turn it about !^^ 

I have turned it about. It is not looking at you,^^ 
said Maxey, nervously. 

Mr. Dye glared so at the back of the picture that 
there could be no doubt that he thought he saw the face 
still. Then he uttered a horrible oath. 

Aye, grin on, grin on, will you?^^ he cried out, de- 
fiantly. You canT terrify me. Not now; not now. 
I fear the living. Not the dead; not the dead.*^^ 

There burst from his lips a long peal of hysterical 
laughter. 

It was more than Maxey could bear. He went out 
for Doctor Lamar, and when he had returned with him 
locked the door to prevent hia wif® fol- 

lowing, 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


211 


Lamar examined the shaking, cowering wreck upon 
the sofa, and Maxey, impatient of delay in his decision, 
queried nervously: 

What^s the matter with him?^^ 

‘‘1 should say he^d been drinking too much/^ 

^'Is that all? I thought it delirium tremens/^ 

There is not a great deal of difference, said Lamar, 
after listening to some of Dye^s vehement utterances. 
^'He is crazy. We must get him away from here at 
once.'’^ 

"^ISToT^ cried Maxey, he shall not go; not if you say 
he is possessed of a thousand devils. He shall not go 
alive unless he has told the truth and all the truth 
The truth! What does he know?^^ 

He knows everything. He knows my wife^s par- 
entage. He knows the secret of that affair on the sea- 
road. He knows this face that Annette has sketched; 
and if the power remains in him he shall tell!^^ 

Mr. Dye heard and evidently partly comprehended 
these words, for he cried out: 

Eight! Mr. Maxey, right! Make him tell! He^s a 
scoundrel! Make him tell.^^ 

Maxey sprang toward him and seized him by the arm, 
as if he would drag his secrets from him by physical 
force. 

Speak out now, old man!^^ he said. ^^For the time 
for playing with me is passed. I will have the truth 
now. You recognize the Jew^s face. Who is the Jew? 
What are your relations with him?’^ 

The Jew, eh? You want to know about the Jew 
and my relations with him? Eolations is a pretty word! 
I will tell you, Mr. Maxey, my relations with him: I 
was a whining cur. He was a lion.^^ 


212 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEH 


Go on, quickly, whispered Lamar, in Maxey^s ear. 

Humor him. He is ripe for a confession. Make him 
talk while he can.^^ 

Why did you fall down when I told you my wife 
had painted the lion^s face?^^ 

Why.^ Because she never saw the Jew. He was a 
crafty man. He ruled her destiny, but he never showed 

himself — never but once, and then The wine! 

Give me the wine! Why will you keep that accursed 
thing in the room? Take it out, I say! Take it out of 
my sight. 

Doctor Lamar promptly removed the easel, and Mr. 
Dye seemed to breathe easier, Maxey asked another 
question: 

The Jew, the lion, ruled her destiny? What was 
his name?^^ 

Mr. Dye bent close down and answered in a whisper: 

^^His name was Felix Eosenfel, and I killed him!^^ 

Maxey shrank back. 

^^It startles you, does it?^^ went on the wretched Dye. 
^^It makes you draw away from me? You did not 
know the Jew or you would feel more like humbling 
yourself before me. Ah! a man can be crushed and 
ground and trampled under foot and despised and spat 
upon, and then the time may come when even the cur 
will turn and rend the lion. Say, my fine fellow — (he 
turned toward Lamar) — ^^you^re a good judge. IsnT 
that so?^^ 

Undoubtedly,^^ said Lamar, encouragingly. ^^Un- 
doubtedly, that is very true. He spat upon you and you 
killed him. Very good. He had been grinding you 
under his feet for a very long while ?^^ 

Gentlemen, this will be a private affair between us. 



THE FACE OF EOSENFEL. 213 

fitriotly private! We will review this case together, and 
we shall judge together whether I did well. There shall 
be no judge, no jury, no hangman^s rope about this, 
will there, cap?^^ 

Decidedly not.^^ 

No. Well, put it down first that a very long time 
ago I was a merchant's clerk and Felix Kosenfel was that 
merchant's private secretary. Got that down? Well, I 
stole money and he found it out. That W’as the be- 
ginning. But it was not the end, no, not the end!^^ 

Mr. Dye talked in a rapid, feverish manner, and 
clutched the sleeve of Maxey^s coat. His faded eyes 
had so much the appearance of a maniac^s, that the 
artist could not^elp an involuntary shrinking. 

The wretches manner was variable. A fierce outbreak 
was succeeded by a period of comparative calmness. 
After his last sentence he suddenly burst out with a 
peal of forced laughter. He pointed to Lamar and 
Maxey in turn, as though they were the most obvious 
objects of mirth. 

What a pair of simpletons you are, gentlemen! Do 
you expect me to go on and tell you all about my affairs 
with the Jew? with my dear Felix, the lion? Oh, no, 
not at all. Not at all [becoming serious]. He got me 
under his feet and there he kept me, grinding his heel 
round and round and round and never letting me go. 
The more I did the more I must do. When he had 
woven such a web around me that he held my honor, 
my freedom, my life, in his hand, then he was satisfied 
[becoming pathetic]. Now, gentlemen, donT be un- 
reasonable. DonT ask me to confess how it was that 
my life got into his hands! ThaFs a dead matter. 
People gave up looking for a solution a long time ago. 


214 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


Don^t let us rake it up at this late day and narrow up 
people's souls needlessly. Besides it don't concern any 
of us." 

Very well/' said Lamar, ^Met it go. It amounts 
simply to an understanding that this Jew involved you in 
a crime, the detection of which would have hung you." 

Mr. Dye caught his arm and supplicated him. 

^^Oh, my good man, don't talk that way! You hurt 
my feelings; for I've got them, bad as I am, and be- 
sides that is my last card. Esteem my confidence, and 
I'll whisper to you a secret. When I get reduced to the 
last extremity and I want only one more drink to carry 
me off, I know an ambitious detective to whom I can 
sell my knowledge! How does that seem for a plan? It 
can't hang me then, for I shall be dead, and I shall have 
had my whisky." 

Mr. Dye suddenly became mirthful and chuckled. 

This is terrible!" murmured Maxey. 

Mr. Dye immediately grew fierce again. 

But it isn't for any regard of him that I keep silent. 
Don't mistake me there. But for that accursed Jew I 
might to-day have been well and respectable, with a 
home, a wife, children, perhaps. How does it turn out? 
My wife dies of a broken heart. I am an outcast. The 
only child I ever had — she whom I reared from her 
infancy — I cannot look in the face. I am a broken, 
tottering wretch, and all through him. Do you wonder, 
then, that I killed him? Do you wonder? There was 
that affair on the sea road. I told him that she knew a 
part of the secret. He got white with rage, and I 
cringed before him. He held me to blame for it. 
Curse him! What had I done? I have kept you alive 
all these years; you have lived on my bounty, you miser- 


' n T I?*.'. 


THE FACE OF B08EFFEL. 215 

able cur,^ he said. Yes^ gentlemen, he called me a cur. 
So I was, too. You couldn’t blame him for that. He 
was right. But it enraged me to hear him say it. I 
knew I was, but he made me so. Oh, to have strangled 
him then and there ! Then he said, ^ you go home and 
come again when I have thought about it.'’ That is 
what I did — just what he told me; always his slave and 
his tool! Then when I came again he says, with that 
devilish smile of his: ^It is all right. Dye, my boy; we 
must write a letter from that Hapgood woman. She’d 
be likely to believe in her. We must get her out of 
town to some lonely place — the Somerset road will do. 
I have thought it all out.’ ^What for? what for, old 
Jew?’ ^Because it is necessary. That’s enough. Let 
us bring her to the sea road Tuesday night. I will be in 
a sleigh, you on foot. She will wait by the side of the 
road. You will walk past. If all is well you will give 
me the word as you see me driving by. If all is not 
well, you will not give me the word, and I will go up 
the road a piece, and turn and come back, till you say 
tome, go on.’ ^Yes, yes, all very well, devilish Jew, 
but what for ? what for ?’ ^ Are you insane that you ques- 

tion me ? You d 0 your part. Leave me to mine !’ ^ W ell, 
well, my sweet Felix, I have done much for you. Ho 
doubt my love for you is very great, but am I a monster? 
Am I utterly without soul. Has your tyrranous heel 
crushed out every spark of the man in me ? W ill I deliver 
up an innocent girl who trusts me? Ho;^ thousand 
times, nOy old Jew.’ ^ Are you going daft? Don’t you 
know what my power is? Have you forgotten Dale and 
the rest ?’ ^ I forget nothing. Believe me, yet, my mem- 
ory is very, very good. Ah, proud Jew, some day that 
memory may cost you something. But now you shall 


216 


TEE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 


be defied/ ^You don^t mean to defy me! You want 
something; what do you want ^ Your promise^ your sol- 
emn promise, that she shall not be harmed; else I am 
done/ ^ Harm? Who said harm? You wrong me., I 
do not wish her ill. I wish only to talk to her. Oh, I 
shall take excellent care of her! I shall be kind and 
gentle to her! Of that you have my promise. Dye, old 
boy! Of that you may rest assured P ^ Old Jew, you 
smile! But I am serious! This is no whim of mine, 
ril hear your oath/ He swears it then — Felix Eosen- 
fel, the Jew, lays his hand in mine and swears he will 
not harm an innocent child. What next? We are on 
the ”oad, and there she is alone. Once we try. Twice 
we try. Passers always. At last! My hand is waved. 
That is the signal. Third time wins! Sleigh stops. I 
hear nothing. I am seized with a terror. I ought to 
look back, but no. I am a coward. I begin to run. 
AVhat are you running from up the white road, in the 
cold, with the snow all about you, cur Dye? Go back 
and watch over that innocent child! Your cowardice 
killed your wife, ruined your life. Now what? Go 
back and watch over that innocent child! The Jew is 
merciless. The Jew is unscrupulous. What are his 
promises? What are his oaths? Go back and watch 
over that innocent child! It rings in your ears till you 
no longer dare go on. You turn back. Dye, the cow- 
ard, turns back. No Jew there! Only the white, cold 
road and the dash of the water! What is this in the 
snow? A shawl! Her shawl! Look well at it, with 
straining eyes and a choking breath. Where is she? 
Where is she, coward! fool! dupe! idiot! where is she? 
Go to the cliff and look over; go close, close up, and 
look over. There! Do you hear that? That is the 


THE EACB OE HOBENFEL. 


217 


water. But that other — that moaning, feeble utterance? 
That is a spirit! He has killed her! Do you hear that. 
Dye? The Jew has killed her! No wonder you put 
your fingers in your ears and run! Eun! run! run! 
Across the field and up the road, to stumble, to fall, 
and then push on again, with your fingers in your ears! 
You cannot shut it out. You cannot drown its cry. 
The Jew has killed her, and her spirit moans and wrings 
its hands, and all through you. Eemember this, cow- 
ard Dye. Look back over your past life and think of 
the ambitious beginning and the pitiful end. Good 
family, talents, education! But still where are you? 
And all through him. How long, how long, shall he go 
on despising you, trampling on you? He, with his dev- 
ilish face and black, black heart? Wait, good Dye. 
Wait! Do not be impatient. The moment comes. She 
is not dead. She lives. She lives. Dye, you must watch 
the house; the house in the quiet street. You must tell 
the Jew all who go in and out. Oh, yes, you will do this 
for the good, kind Jew; the sweet, amiable Eosenfel! 
Yes, but you must do more. She is getting well. You 
must come up with him the long flights of stairs to keep 
watch while he goes in. Do you remember that. Dye? 
Do you remember his devilish cunning and his plausible 
airs ? Do you remember the soft knock that is not an- 
swered? the creaking door? the cautious voice, whisper- 
ing: ^ Watch here that no one comes upon the stairs 
while I go in?^ What will you do. Dye? You have 
whisky in your pocket, what will you do? Drink! 
Drink for courage! Why not call for help? The Jew 
is trapped. He is there. Drink more and deeper. You 
must have courage. Sh! what is he doing? Did you 
hear that gasp? Step in a little way and look. There! 


^18 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEE 


The paper flashes up — the paper in the grate ! and there 
he is at the fire looking at her. The second time is bet- 
ter than the first. She is black in the face from his 
choking hands. ^ She is dead now, Dye.^ See; he is 
dragging her back upon the bed. Quick! He calls to 
you: lights What is he doing? A match to guide 

him while he arranges her dead hands! Devilish, devil- 
ish cunning! What a monster is this Jew! A step 
on the stair! Eun quickly. Dye, and lock the door! 
Escape! Where? How? By the window, to the roof, 
and so out of the reach of all pursuit. There is pound- 
ing and calling at the door! They will break it in! 
Quick! quick! now! Who will go first? The Jew! Oh, 
yes; the Jew! the great and important Jew. What is 
your life worth, you cur, beside his? He moves in soci- 
ety. Where are you? The window is open. He stands 
upon the sill. He is climbing! He will escape! Ho!! 
Ho!! At last!! Dye, the whisky has done its work! 
You are no longer a crouching sycophant! Strike now! 
How or never! See him struggle to keep his hold! See 
him losing strength, bit by bit, against that fearful odds! 
He cannot long hold out. Dye, you have a giant^s 
strength, if you are old and worn out, through him, be- 
fore your time! Go cursed Jew! You have torn his 
desperate fingers from their hold, and there, in the dark- 
ness he is going down, over and over, to the end. The 
Jew is dead! The Jew is deadT^ 

Mr. Dye rose up. His eyes, which had more and 
more, as he went on, assumed a steady look ahead, fixed 
on the vacant wall in front of him. 

Both Maxey and the physician accompanied him sim- 
ultaneously, each with a strong grasp on an arm. They 
did not know what in his delirious state he might be im- 
pelled to do. He only spoke out mockingly: 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


219 


Jew, Jew, Felix Eosenfel, the Jew! Eise up out 
of your place in the cold water, and dare to say that I 
have lied r 

He was silent a minute. His body became rigid and 
then convulsive. 

Their combined strength was barely sufficient to hold 
him. His whole frame became contorted, and crying 
out in a terrible voice: 

There he comes! There he comes! He is there on 
the carpet, wet and dripping !^^ and fell back, frothing at 
the mouth. 


220 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL. 


CHAPTEE XX. 

MAIT AND MISTEESS. 

M AXEY and Doctor Lamar exchanged looks of 
alarm. 

What is this?^^ the artist whispered. 

Lamar answered: 

Deaths 

^^So suddenly? Is it possible 
I do not mean that he is dead, but that he has not 
long to live. I would not give a pinch of snuff for his 
chances. 

What are we to do?^^ 

Better take him to the hospital at once. It will not 
harm him to move him. He cannot remain here. He 
will not be long in that swoon, and then he may be vio- 
lent. Let me call the janitor and have a carriage 
brought. 

Lamar stepped to the entrance which communicated 
directly with the outer corridor. In a twinkling he had 
turned the key and opened the door. 

A man who had been standing suspiciously near the 
threshold drew back in consternation. 

This man was respectably dressed. His coat was but- 
toned up about his neck, and his hat drawn down over 
his eyes. He looked like a well-to-do coachman. 

The instant he saw Lamar he put up his hand as if to 
shield his face and turned to run. 

The physician was too quick for him. In two strides 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


221 


he had come up with him and laid a grip of iron 
upon his shoulder. 

It is of no use, John/^ said the doctor, I know 
you."" 

Oh! for God"s sake!"" the fellow plead, in a voice of 
terror, ^^let me out of this! I shall he killed!"" 

Indeed! Who will kill you?"" 

The man at once became mute, hut he trembled. 

^^Now, John,"" said the physician, in a quiet tone, 

you are going to tell me the truth, or you will lose 
your situation to-morrow. You know this man. 
Dye?"" 

^^I, sir?"" the man exclaimed, with an air of aston- 
ishment. 

"^It is useless for you to affect surprise. You are 
caught, you see. What were you doing here ?"" 

Only looking around, sir; that is all, sir, as I hope 
to live."" 

^^Hum. Well, now, John, it is of no use. I will tell 
you plainly that it has long been known to us that some- 
body in Mrs. rorsythe"s household was in correspond- 
ence with this Leander Dye. We have only been wait- 
ing to lay our hands on the right man. We have found 
him at last; and unless he is very, very careful he goes 
at once to the police. Do you understand me?"" 

^^Yes, sir."" 

^MVhat do you say?"" 

The man shut his lips tightly together, and then an- 
swered: 

Nothing, sir."" 

There was something of a grim resolution in his face, 
which made Lamar uneasy. Nevertheless, he per- 
sisted: 


222 


THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, 


Very well, then, you will come in here with me, and 
I will lock you up until we can get an officer/^ 

The man began to expostulate, in genuine alarm. 

Lamar cut him short: 

Enough of that! Will you tell me what I ask, or 
must I do as I threatened 

The man seemed to be greatly distressed. He looked 
at Lamar and he looked at the wall. He appeared at a 
loss for words. Suddenly he uttered a despairing cry: 

Well, doctor, you let me drive my team home and I 
will come back and stay as long as you like. 

Your team, eh? Perhaps you will point out this 
team to me?^^ 

Oh, no, no! That was a mistake, sir. Let any- 
body go with me and see that I come back safe. I 
havenT got any team.^^ 

Lamar at once turned back into the room, dragging 
the unfortunate coachman by the collar. 

^^Maxey,^^ he asked, ^^do you feel competent to deal 
with this man?^^ 

The artist smiled grimly. 

^^Very well, keep him here till I come back. I shall 
be gone but a moment. 

The door was closed and locked. Lamar ran down 
into the street. 

A single glance to the left and the right, along the 
lighted way, showed him that the place was wholly de- 
serted. The cold night wind from the river smote him 
in the face. He hurried down the steps and up to the 
main avenue. 

A number of vehicles were passing in either direction, 
but there was no carriage standing by the curb, as far as 
he could see. 


tHE face OE noSFFEFL. 


223 


Still, he did not feel quite satisfied. He went along 
to the next street, extending to the river, parallel with 
Ballavoine Place. When he reached the corner his pulse 
gave a great leap. 

A close carriage was drawn up by the sidewalk, a little 
way down toward the river. The horses were covered 
with blankets, and the driver’s seat was vacant. A dozen 
rapid steps, and Lamar’s hand was on the door of the 
carriage. The handle turned and he was peering in. 

A street light on the other side of the way shown 
through the opposite windows, and dimly illuminated 
the interior. 

Lamar saw a woman closely veiled. She was reclin- 
ing in a corner, but when the door opened she started 
forward and ejaculated, in a tremulous voice: 

•^^John!” 

Doctor Lamar knew that voice. A shiver went 
through him. There was a dull feeling at his heart. He 
did not utter a word. He did not move a muscle. 
There was a dead silence. 

The veiled figure shrank back with an instinctive fear, 
and the light from the street-lamp fell upon his face. A 
piercing scream came from behind the veil. 

The figure sat quite motionless upon the seat. 

^^Fostelle!” said Lamar, in a low tone. 


Maxey answered the knock at the door, instantly. 
The doctor was very pale, but he was perfectly calm. 
Where have you been so long?” cried the artist. 
Bidding good-by to an old friend,” was the solemn 
response. Maxey, let this man go. There is nothing 
at all against him.” 


224 


THE FACE OF R08EHFEL, 


Doctor Lamar turned to the coachman and added, in 
a low voice: ^^Go, John, and drive your mistress 
home/^ 


When an officious personage, who would not tell the 
servant his business, called at Mrs. Forsythe^s house the 
next morning, he found the place in confusion. After 
some persistence he was shown into the presence of the 
housekeeper, of whom he desired to learn when he 
should call again. 

Not at all,^^ returned the housekeeper, coldly. 

Madam has gone away on a long visit. She sat up all 
night making arrangements for the settlement of her 
affairs here. The furniture is to be stored, and all the 
servants have been given a month^s pay. The house will 
positively be closed. 

There was another person in the city who went quietly 
to bed overnight, but who in the morning could not be 
found. 

It was the pretty Miss Stevenson. 


THE TACE OF BOSENFEL. 


225 




CHAPTEK XXL 

THE power's work. 

O XE AETEEXOOX Maxey sought a private audi- 
ence with his wife. 

Annette, dear, I want you to tell me something." 
^^Is it something about this mysterious affair that 
everybody has been so absorbed in of late? The house 
for the last few days has been full of -hush,' ^ don't 
question me,' ^all in good time,' and other such ex- 
asperating answers, until I am quite resigned never to be 
curious again. Is it about this?" 

Perhaps, little one. Who can tell? It is about that 
fancy portrait that you sketched. I want you to tell me 
all about the origin and development of that idea." 

At the mention of the portrait Mrs. Maxey became 
visibly distressed. 

Has Doctor Lamar influenced you to ask me that, 
Julian?" 

Maxey averted his glance. 

^^Why, no, dear; only it was a very strange picture 
for a young girl, for you know you are only a girl yet, 
Annette. I want to bo sure that it is not something you 
once saw and forgot?" 

Saw? In the flesh do you mean?" 

Maxey started and looked at his young wife with a 
troubled glance. 

That is a strange question, Annette." 


226 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEH 


Nevertheless she was very grave and earnest in what 
she said. She continued in a tremulous voice: 

My husband, do you believe in apparitions?"’ 

Annette!” 

Do you want your wife to believe in them?” 

Of course I don’t.” 

Then do not question me.” 

^^This introduction is highly calculated to allay a 
man’s curiosity. In the name of goodness, Annette, 
what do you mean? How is the mere fact of my ques- 
tioning you going to cause you to believe in anything?” 

Because it will cause me to think of a dangerous 
subject. Oh, dear! I wish I had never touched that 
picture. It was so foolish of me! I might have known 
it would have led to this. But the idea fascinated me 
so after it occurred to me, that I was almost forced to it. 
Julian, do you desire it very, very much?” 

She looked at him wistfully, as if she fondly dared to 
hope that he would take pity on her manifest distress, 
and say no. 

But he was immovable. 

I not only desire it very much, but I consider it of 
extreme importance to the happiness of us both, that 
you answer me fully and freely. ” 

And when I have done so you will never refer to it 
again!” 

I promise you, Annette, never.” 

He sealed his promise with a kiss! 

The young wife clasped her arms about her husband’s 
neck and said to him: 

Then, Julian, dear, I will open my whole heart to 
you. For you to understand my thoughts and feelings 
on the subject I must talk about, you ought to know a 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEH 


227 


little episode in my childhood. My mother, Mrs. Dye, 
was an intelligent and thinking woman, little given to 
superstitions of any sort, and she was very particular 
that I should not grow up with any silly notions about 
such subjects in my head. But, one time, when I was 
about fifteen years old, she became interested in a book 
on Spiritualism, which she picked up in a second-hand 
book-store. She did not tell me all that she thought 
and felt in the matter, I am very sure, but I could 
plainly observe a gradual alteration in her ways and 
looks, and one day she nearly frightened me to death by 
going into what I afterwards found was called the trance 
state. First she became rigid, and then spasmodic, and 
at last she began to talk in unnatural voices. I was 
utterly unable to recognize my mother, and I was so 
terrified than I ran out for a doctor. Fortunately, the 
physician was a kind, sympathetic man. Instead of 
laughing at my alarm, he not only quieted my fears for 
the time and somewhat explained the matter to me, but 
he gave me words of caution and advice for the future, 
which I have never forgotten. ^ If you don^t wish your 
mother to frighten you this way again, see that she 
reads no more of the sort of literature she has indulged 
in lately, and that she goes to no more sittings. I have 
questioned her, and from what she tells me, together 
with her evident temperament and present health, I find 
that this sensitive, if not dangerous condition, dnto 
which she has brought herself, is owing entirely to an 
unhealthy brooding on one subject.^ ^Surely you can 
give her some medicine, then,^ I said to him, ^that will 
cure her."" ^^^o, my dear girl, he replied, ^this matter 
is beyond medicine. She thinks the world of you; you 
can restore her to health better than anyone else. Try 


228 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL. 


to interest her in other things. Once get her mind out 
of its present unhealthy rut of thought, and you will 
have no more trouble. These things are entirely nervous 
in their origin. The only way to cure them is by allay- 
ing the excitement. In the end I found the physician 
had told the truth. As long as my mother continued to 
be excited about, and interested in, ^ Spiritualistic mani- 
festation,^ she was liable to the trances; but when, by 
my aid and her own determined efforts, she had accus- 
tomed herself to think of other things, the trances left 
her and never returned. Julian, dear, I suppose you 
will say it is silly and girlish, but I have an uncontrol- 
able horror and dread of these things. They frighten 
me. I could conceive of no worse fate than to replace 
the sunshine of my life with the darkness and gloom of 
a mind tortured by such spectres, and my fear is greater 
because I fancy I am predisposed to such things.''^ 

That is a morbid fancy, little wife, growing, I fear, 
out of your unfortunately solitary and lonely childhood. 
A few years of bird songs and blue sky will cure you. 
Something has occurred to you of late, dear, to remind 
you of all this. Go on. Don^t be afraid to tell me.''^ 
Yes, Julian, something did happen to me. I donT 
know why it was. Perhaps my head was weak from my 
sickness. But in the first days of my recovery, as I lay 
there listlessly on the bed, I frequently fell into trance- 
like states. I have found out since, that by resisting 
the feeling when it first approaches, I can break the 
spell, but I was too weak and lacking in determination 
then. This grew upon me, and I become frightened. I 
remembered what the doctor had told me about my 
mother, and by forcing my mind to think of other 
things I have succeeded in freeing myself from the 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL. 


229 


shadow. That is why I have told no one, not eyen you. 
That is why I do not like to bring it back again. 

But I don^t see what all this has' to do with the por- 
trait/"' Maxey said, wonderingly. 

‘‘1 will tell you, Julian. It was in one of those wak- 
ing nightmares that I saw that face. Don^t make me 
tell it, Julian! Don’t make me tell itl^^ 

^^God knows I would do nothing to cause my little 
wife a moment^s uneasiness; but, darling, it is so impor- 
tant to our welfare — for yours and mine — that you 
should speak! Let it be recalled once and then for- 
gotten for all time. In one of those dreams you saw 
that face?"^ 

She answered him in a low voice: 

Yes^ Julian. I was lying on the bed there, in the 
alcove-room. Something, I don^t know what to call it, 
came over me. It was more like a waking dream than 
anything I could name. My eyes were wide open all the 
time. I saw the room and the things in it, just as now.^^ 
She clung closer to her husband and went on: 

^^I was lying there in the alcove-room, looking toward 
the fire-place out there. It was just after I had been 
brought back here, before I had told you my story. I 
was watching the red coals in the grate. Presently I 
felt a sinking, dreamy sensation coming over me. I did 
not understand it. I was too weak to make any resist- 
ance to it. It was in the middle of the day, and the 
room was full of light. But though the knowledge of 
that fact never left me, I felt that it had suddenly be- 
come very dark. All the light seemed to arise from 
something bursting up into a great fiame in the grate; 
and then between me and the fire, with the strong glare 
upon it, I saw that face, just as I have tried to draw it. 


230 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


I could see the man^s arms and shoulders. He seemed 
to be holding something to the light of the fire and 
staring at it. But that was dark. All this was dim, 
but real — real as you or the room itself; and yet all the 
time, if you can understand such a thing, 1 never got 
the real fire mixed with the fire that was in my mind 
alone. The grate was still there behind the face and 
shoulders. It was an apparition and I knew it. That 
was what terrified me. Not then; for I never thought 
of fear, but afterward, when somebody came in and dis- 
turbed me, and I had time to think of it. When that 
disturbance came, the phantom vanished like a flash. 
Afterward it came to me in the dead of night, and sud- 
denly sprang up out of the darkness. Do you wonder 
that I was afraid such things might get a hold upon me, 
and tried to banish it?^^ 

^^Then, in the name of all that is intelligible, why 
did you sketch it?’^ 

Because, Julian, I wanted to make it real. Then if 
I must think of it at all, I could think of it as a picture 
drawn upon canvass, and persuade myself that it was no 
hob-goblin that was haunting me. Perhaps you cannot 
understand this feeling, but I tell you truly, after I had 
materialized that face, it no longer had the same terror 
for me. Perhaps I ought to have concealed my work, 
but I never thought of your questioning me. Doctor 
Lamar frightened me so! How could he ever guess 
what was in my mind 

If you had confided in Lamar you would have done 
better, said Maxey, excitedly. ^^He would not only 
have driven away the ghost, but he would have explained 
him to your entire satisfaction. Why, Annette, if you 
should hear Lamar talk you would be astonished to dis- 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL. 


231 


cover what an entirely simple and scientific affair a ghost 
is! Let me tell you something to relieve your mind of some 
of its half-superstitious dread. That face you saw was 
the face of a real man. He was your evil genius, An- 
nette. He it was who took away your name; he who 
made your life so solitary and miserable; he who pushed 
you from the sea-road and unwittingly gave you to me; 
he who followed you even here, while you lay in the 
alcove-room, helpless and sick, determined you should 
die. He came here into this room, and not being 
familiar with the place, mistook, in the dark, Ellen, who 
was resting herself on my bed, for you. He choked her 
to prevent her crying out by pulling the ends of the silk 
handkerchief, which she wore about her neck. Not 
quite sure, even then, that it was you, he dragged her 
to the fire-place and threw in a newspaper to give him 
light. The noise he made had startled you. Sick as 
you were, you understood, in a vague way, perhaps, that 
there was danger near you; for we found you sitting up 
in bed. One moment you were looking into darkness. 
The next the paper flashed up and you saw his face, 
glaring, in the first moments of his surprise and alarm, 
at the unfamiliar features of my sister. You photo- 
graphed that scene on your mind, Annette. You know 
what a power you have of visualization. You remem- 
ber how the doctor once questioned you about it, and 
you found out what a phenomenon you were in that 
direction. Is it so very strange to you now that that 
picture should have come up into your mind again when 
you were weak and nervous 

The young wife looked at her husband bewildered and 
wondering. 

I only dimly understand you, Julian. Had I an 


232 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


evil genius? Who was he? What had I done that he 
should wish me dead? Julian, you have learned at last 
the secret of my life. What is it?^^ 

To-morrow, darling! Wait till to-morrow." 

Is it best, dear?" 

I think so. Little wife, do you remember the time 
when you were loth to yield yourself to your love for me, 
because you felt that, in making a union with a name- 
less girl, I was running a terrible risk?" 

^^Hush, Julian! My heart is in my mouth. That 
fear has never died. In the midst of all my happiness, 
I have never been strong enough to lift that weight. 
Oh! I thought, some day we may be sitting here, blindly 
happy in our ignorance, and the truth will come. If it 
is as I fear it may be, will Julian feel still that his course 
was wise? Will he love me quite as much, quite as 
dearly as before? Will there be no shadow of regret in 
his heart? Oh, my husband, if I could believe there 
would be, I should be so miserable!" 

Julian gathered her to his heart, and kissed her with 
reckless freedom. 

To-morrow, little wife, to-morrow, you shall know 
what a fool I have made of myself!" 


Lamar, I believe you are a wizard." 

^^Why?" 

How do you arrive at your conclusions? It is almost 
too strange for belief. What possessed you to question 
my wife so closely, the other day, about the origin of 
that portrait?" 

CanT you guess? Had you forgotten?" 

I don^t understand you." 


THE FACE OF BOSEHFEL. 


233 


Do you recollect the description^ given by the 
janitor, of the mysterious lazy man, whose anxiety for 
your 'welfare, after Annette was brought here, w'as 
sufficient to get him to the door, but was never by any 
possibility strong enough to induce him to mount the 
stairs? Don^t you remember the janitor^s description — 
middle-aged, smooth face, small eyes near together, 
bushy eyebrows, hooked nose, and the rest? Maxey, I 
had been keeping my eye open for such a looking indi- 
vidual ever since. Is there anything very remarkable 
about that!’^ 

^^Well, I should never have thought of it. You are 
the most modest man! I suppose you will aLo claim 
that there was nothing remarkable about your analysis 
of the ghost ?^^ 

Oh, yes, I shall. That is different. That is scien- 
tific. In that matter I am apt to be vain. Maxey, if 
you will carry your memory back to a conversation we 
had in your sitting room, some months ago, you will 
flatter me by recollecting that I almost predicted the 
result of your wife^s power of visualization. After the 
experiment of Doctor Bently and myself, with the cat — 
or rather the accident we witnessed, for it was no plan 
of ours — and I became convinced that she really had a 
remarkable unconscious power of retaining in her mind 
the image of anything that impressed her, I thought a 
good deal about it; and I distinctly recollect telling you, 
when you were expressing some very callow views regard- 
ing the possibility of her remembering events occurring 
during her illness, if she recovered her mind — I dis- 
tinctly recollect telling you then, that, if she ever got 
well, she would have absolutely no memory of that 
time, but that it would be perfectly possible for her to 


234 


THE FACE OF R08ENFE 


carry a scene into the future; that, for instance, 1 
should not be everwhelmed with surprise if, though she 
could remember neither of us, she should paint your 
picture or mine as an idea of her own. No, there is 
nothing at all mysterious in this affair. It is presum- 
able and it actually happened. By induction and 
deduction both, we have demonstrated it, and, even in 
science, that is a rare thing, my boy 

What a great thing is your science cried Maxey, 
It dissects a ghost as it does a monkey^s body, and 
makes, of a grim and ghastly apparition, the most 
natural event in the world. 

Dr. Lamar smiled. 

^^I am glad to hear yon talking sense. Time was 
when you were a little sceptical. Perhaps, if your wife 
keeps on the way she has begun, affording illustrations 
of the benefits of science, we shall even make of you an 
evolutionist, one of these days.^^ 

Maxey looked serious. 

I shall hardly go as far as that, Eustace; but I am 
ready to acknowledge that you do many wonderful 
things.’^ 

And still we are in our infancy. One of these days, 
my boy, one of these days!^^ 

Truly this man was strangely hopeful and exuberant 
for one who had just bidden a long farewell to a sweet- 
heart. 




THE FACE OF MOSENFEE 


235 


CHAPTEE XXIL 


THE RIVER GLISTENS. 



HE SOFT breath of a summer wind from the 


X distant hills rustled the curtains in the artistes 
chamber. 

The river glistened in the sun. 

Miss Maxey, radiant and excited, Mrs. Maxey, tremu- 
lous and apprehensive, rose up when the artist opened 
the door leading into the parlor and ushered in his guest. 

My wife and my sister. Miss Maxey, my lawyer, Mr. 
Bornstein.-’^ The old gentleman in the black coat 
glanced at the two young ladies with his little twinkling 
eyes, and bowed. 

Happy to meet you, Mrs. Maxey, most happy; and 
you. Miss Maxey, most happy.^^ 

And so they met, the lawyer and the artistes sister, as 
everybody believed them to be, as perfect strangers. 

Be seated, Mr. Bornstein,^^ said Maxey. The law- 
yer accepted the profl'ered chair, by the table. The rest 
followed his example. 

^^Have you prepared your resume of the F'^rsythe 
case, as you intended asked Maxey. Somehow his 
hair had risen to an alarming attitude, and his necktie 
was completely disorganized — two infallible symptoms of 
a state of extreme nervous tension. 

I have gotten down a few notes, entirely free from 
technicalities, Mr. Maxey, which I trust you will find 
cover the principal points. I meant to have had my 


236 


THE FACE OF FOSENFEL, 


clerk make a fair copy of it, but I did not have the time. 
You may find my writing a trifle backward, at first 
sight. Perhaps I had better read off the headings my- 
selfr 

Nothing would suit me better,^’ said Maxey. 

He had chosen for himself a comfortable chair by the 
window. 

The two ladies sat together on the sofa. Miss Maxey 
held the young wife^s hand. 

The lawyer drew from his pocket a neatly folded 
package of manuscript. As he smoothed it out in his 
lap, he cast his twinkling glance around upon his audit- 
ors. If it rested longer and more significantly upon the 
face of the artistes sister than anywhere else, she alone 
knew why. 

may say to you, Mr. Maxey, before I begin, that 
there may be some matters in this document which you 
now hear for the first time. You may be at a loss to 
know how I obtained this information, but, unfortu- 
nately, I shall not be able to satisfy you on that point, 
for the reason that I have given my promise not to be- 
tray the name of my informant. I have also added a 
few unnecessary sentences for the purpose of bringing 
the document to a finished close. That is all I desire 
to say by way of preface. Shall I begin at once? Very 
well. The document is headed ^ The Forsythe Case,^ 
and thus it reads: 

Twenty years ago, Ansel Forsythe was a wealthy mer- 
chant, whn persisted, in spite of the ravages>of a terrible 
disease, in carrying on a great and profitable business. 
The rheumatism had twisted one of his legs out of shape 
and made him a helpless wreck at forty-two. He was 
suffering, beside; from a nameless malady; which wasted 


TEE FACE OF B08ENFEL. 


m 

him away, bit by bit, and brought him each year fear- 
fully nearer to the grave. Personally he was unable to 
have an active superintendence of his affairs, and the 
work was done by a keen and ambitious young man, who 
had formerly been his private secretary; a man unscrup- 
ulous and without any religious convictions whatever, 
but who, for the reason that he came of J ewish ancestry, 
was nevertheless called the Jew. 

The Jew was undoubtedly a man of great talents, for 
he managed the merchant's affairs to such advantage 
that they prospered beyond his expectations. For that 
reason the Jew is said to have considered the property, 
which grew up under his care, as morally his own. 

The merchant had remained a bachelor until well 
along in years, when he had married a fragile beauty, 
who died in giving birth to a female child. This child 
was called Ethel, and was her father’s idol. In the will, 
made immediately after her mother’s death, he settled 
all his property upon her. This was decidedly not to 
the Jew’s liking, but he was too circumspect a man to 
permit his real feelings to be seen. He played a very 
deep game. 

When the child was not more than a year old, he per- 
suaded the merchant that he ought to marry again. 
The poor deformed man would have been little likely to 
have followed his advice, but great pressure was brought 
to bear upon him. Medical men were found who did 
not scruple to tell him that marriage would undoubtedly 
prolong his life. He then consented to the sacrifice. 

All this while, prospective matrimony had been to 
him a sort of abstract idea, but this decision narrowed it 
down to a reality. And it now occurred to him that to 
marry ou'^ needed a woman. Here he was, an unsightly, 
twisted creature, morbidly sensitive to his own defects. 
Who would marry himp Hothing simpler, said the 
Jew, than to find a desirable lady. 

He proved this by presenting to him, the next day, 
his own sister. 

Miss Eosenfel was very young — almost a child in 
years — fascinating, and, they told him, as pure as the 


238 


THE FACE OF B08ENFEL, 


driven snow! At any rate she soon showed that she had 
no objections to making a sacrifice of herself on the 
altar of Hymen. She became Mrs. Forsythe. 

The next month appeared a new codicil in the mer- 
chant’s will. A third of his vast property, in the event 
of his death, was to be left to his widow. Envious peo- 
ple say that the ‘Jew made a bargain with his sister, 
whereby she was to receive this third, and leave him free 
to gain if he could, the other two. How far she actu- 
ally assisted him may never be known. 

It was evident that the merchant could not live long. 
After his second marriage he failed rapidly. One day a 
shocking thing occurred. Little Ethel, the merchant’s 
idol, then eighteen months old, was stolen, most myste- 
riously, in the dead of night, almost from her nurse’s 
arms. The house had been broken into, and many ar- 
ticles of value had been taken. So the object of the 
kidnapers appeared to be self-evident. They had stolen 
the child, hoping to extort vast sums from the merchant 
as a ransom. The dying man was wild with grief. He 
commanded the Jew, the medium through whom he 
transacted all his business, to use the most effective 
measures for the immediate rescue of his darling. But, 
though much money was expended and a vast amount of 
work performed, every claim of a discovery of the miss- 
ing one proved, when hunted up, to be an imposture. 
The Jew had an infallible test of which the world knew 
nothing. An accident had necessitated the amputation 
of one of the toes of the child’s left foot. 

The merchant’s hope that he might still see his child- 
again, kept him alive for years, but the time came when 
the physicians said that he must die. Some weeks be- 
fore his decease he called his lawyer, an old and trusted 
friend, to ask his advice in a most important matter. 
As the result of that advice, the merchant for the third 
time altered his will. The lawyer mistrusted the Jew, 
but the merchant, to the last, held blindly to his faith 
in his integrity. Still, the counsellor persuaded him, 
easily enough, to protect his child in the strongest man- 
ner. The will, as then framed, provided that two-thirds 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL, 


239 


of his fortune should go to his widow, and the other 
third, with the exception of a stated sum, given to 
the faithful Jew, was to be held in trust by the law- 
yer and other honorable gentlemen, for his daughter, 
Ethel. If, at the end of thirty years, she had not 
been heard from, her share of the property, which 
amounted to nearly half a million dollars, was to go to 
various charitable institutions. This will was made 
on April 14, 1875, signed and sealed in the presence of 
witnesses. On April 21st, of the same year, the lawyer 
was hastily summoned to attend Mr. Forsythe, who was 
dying, and who, apparently in perfectly sane mind, told 
him that, having decided at the last moment, again to 
alter the will, he had done so in a codicil, which he only 
desired him to examine as to its legality and force. 
There could be no doubt about that. The codicil had 
been added in the Jew^s handwriting, and was counter- 
signed by three servants in the house, who, in the eye of 
the law, were disinterested witnesses. It was certainly 
legal, but the startling nature of the alteration alarmed 
the lawyer, and aroused his darkest suspicions. It re- 
voked the provisions of the previous clause, regarding 
his daughters legacy, reduced the number of years the 
money was to be held for her from thirty to ten, and 
made the provisional legatee, in the event of her not 
being found at the expiration of that time, instead of the 
charitable institutions, the Jew himself. 

The lawyer did not let this pass without remonstrance, 
but the dying merchant refused to alter the testament. 

I owe everything to my good Felix, he said, referring 
to the Jew. ^^Why should you envy him?^^ But so 
certain was the lawyer of the exercise of undue influence 
upon the merchant's mind, that after his death, he 
hunted up a distant relative, and persuaded him to dis- 
pute the will. The case was tried in court, and resulted 
in a triumph for the Jew. The will held. 

Ansel Forsythe died April 23, 1875. The courr 
decided in favor of the legality of the will, in October of 
the following year, and on that day the Jew disappeared, 
personally, from the field of war, and transacted such 


240 


THE FACE OF BOSEJSTFEL. 


business as it was necessary to transact^ with reference to 
the trust property, in the hands of the executors, through 
his solicitor. Mr. Forsythe^s old lawyer naturally drew a 
sigh of relief when matters assumed this quiet state, 
from which they did not seem likely to emerge, for at 
least ten years. But he drew this breath altogether too 
soon. The moment the status of the will was settled by 
the court, a new complication arose The same impost- 
ors who had before appeared, and new ones, who had 
come into the possession of the necessary facts, began to 
impersonate the lost Ethel, and to set up successive 
claims to the property. Most of them were so ridiculous 
on the face, that they did not merit sober consideration. 
Others were more shrewdly planned, and gave the execu- 
tors much trouble. If false witnesses could have per- 
jured their way to wealth, the property would have been 
wrested from the executors, long ago; but fortunately 
the Jew^s secret was a secret still, locked up in the 
breasts of half a dozen people, whose interests bade them 
not to speak. When the left foot of the claimant was 
bared, the chances of success vanished like smoke before 
a high wind. 

peculiarity,^^ said one, ^^of this child^s ankle, 
renders your claim defective. The real child had a mal- 
forniation which you do not possess. So they had 
brought us cripples and joint diseases by the score. Un- 
fortunately for them they believed what we told them 
too implicitly. After the examination by our physician, 
and the. positive manner in which he told them that 
there was no foundation for their claims, there were few 
who dared risk the penalties for perjury, by bringing the 
case to court. Our private tribunal generally settled the 
matter. The few who dared to risk a legal trial have 
had the leisure to repent their folly in a prison. But all 
this took time and work and was expensive. The will 
expressly stipulated that the costs of research and legal 
protection should be taken from the trust property itself, 
and in ten years these expenses alone have more than 
eaten up the interest on the money; so that the trust 
property to-day does not amount to quite four hundred 
thousand dollars, 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL, 


241 


So matters stood on the twenty-first day of April last 
past. On that day the slate was clean. There was not 
an unsettled claim pending. The last Ethel Forsythe 
had been disposed of, and there was nothing more to be 
done. Ten years having elapsed since the date of the 
will, and the lost daughter not being forthcoming, Felix 
Kosenfel had a clear title to her property. The lawyer 
expected daily a call from his solicitor. The days went 
by and he did not come. The papers were prepared; 
the property was ready; but no Jew; he did not come. 
In fact there was a great hue and cry raised about this 
matter, for the Jew had disappeared as suddenly and 
completely from his home and his acquaintances as if, 
unseen and alone, he had, like Elijah, been translated 
into heaven. He had gone out one night on an errand. 
He had never returned. 

Meanwhile what was to become of the Forsythe prop- 
erty? The will was clear and explicit on this point. In 
case of the Jew^s death and the non-appearance of the 
missing heiress, the trust funds reverted, as before, to 
the charities. The trustees only awaited proof of the 
Jew’s death to lift this burden off their shoulders. 
Then, like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, a last and 
most dangerous Ethel Forsythe appeared upon the scene. 

This girl had been brought up by a certain George 
and Mary Stevenson, in the country, as their own 
daughter. They now declared that in her infancy the 
child had been placed in their hands by a certain 
Leander Dye, who had paid them royally for her sup- 
port. An affidavit, sworn out by Dye before a justice of 
the peace, averred that he had stolen the child from 
Ansel Forsythe’s house, in hope of a ransom; had been 
terrified by the results of his deed; and had been afraid, 
ever since, to produce her, through fear of the Jew. 

So far, the case was simpler and more straightforward, 
blit not more plausible, than some of its predecessors. 
But the physician’s test threw the executors into con- 
fusion. Miss Stevenson’s left foot met the requirements 
of the case. The third toe had been amputated. At once 
there arose ^ dispute among the executors. Some were 


242 


i^AUE OF ROSENFEL, 



for admitting her claim without further inquiry^ but the 
good sense of the others prevailed, and the most rigid 
investigation ensued. A choice list of the best physicians 
in the city was made up, each of whom was to make a 
separate examination of the scar left by the amputation, 
and return to the executors his opinion as to its age. 
The opinions varied greatly, but the average result was 
certainly of a character to justify our worst suspicions. 
The general verdict placed the date of the wound within 
a year, and there was but one voice to the belief that the 
amputation, instead of being the intelligent and careful 
work of a physician, was the bungling performance of a 
person ignorant of the first principles of surgery. The 
physician who had operated upon the real Ethel, w^as 
dead, but his standing and knowledge of his profession 
was undoubtedly of the first order. Here, at the outset, 
was a manifest flaw in the Stevenson case; but before it 
could be followed up, information was obtained, which 
let the light in upon the whole mystery. While the 
executors were getting over the shock of the first as- 
tonishment, caused by these developments, and were 
preparing to proceed to extreme measures, the last of 
the Forsythe impostures came to a sudden termination, 
by the flight of all concerned in the conspiracy. 

Such is the remarkable Forsythe case, as we knew it, 
and as the world knew it a week ago to-day. This is 
the outer and surface history. I have added a brief 
statement of the secret history, as the events of the past 
few days have made them known to us. 

Ethel Forsythe was stolen by the Jew himself. From 
the day of her abduction she led a forlorn and unsatis- 
factory life. She was brought up under the false name 
of Annette Dye. She traveled about the country be- 
lieved and believing herself to be the daughter of a 
moral coward, whom the Jew had succeeded in getting 
completely under his thumb. She might have been the 
daughter of that moral coward still, had not an acci- 
dent revealed to her a part of the truth of her situation. 
She committed the indiscretion of telling this j^nowledge 
to her pretended father, He flewj, with the startling news 


THE FACE OF BOSENFEL. 


243 


of her fatal information^ to the Jew. At first the Jew 
was paralyzed with fear, but he was too determined and 
unscrupulous a man to permit the schemes of years to be 
dissipated to the winds, without a struggle. He took 
prompt measures, terrible means, desperate means! 

It is, perhaps, useless to inquire into the Jew^s motives 
for using the precise method for the removal of the 
heiress from his path, to which he resorted. At any 
rate he wrote the letter purporting to come from the 
Hapgood woman, and caused the unwilling Dye to aid 
him in his nefarious work. But he swore a solemn oath 
to that poor, weak gentleman, that his only purpose in 
bringing the heiress to the sea-road was to frighten her 
a little, and that he would not harm a hair of her head. 
Think of the utter depravity and unscrupulousness of a 
mind like that! Observe, gentlemen of the jury, the 
grim humor in the postscript of his letter, in which he 
says: may be late, but I shall not fail to keep my 

appointment.^^ 

The Jew was a monstrosity of heartlessness. He 
could have chosen no safer method for a deed of vio- 
lence, as the event proved, and if he had been success- 
ful in his search of her pockets, for the letter he had 
written, which she carried in the bosom of her dress, 
clews to the perpetrator of the assault would have been 
entirely wanting. But with all his trouble his first at- 
tempt was unsuccessful. He tried again. In the second 
trial he was thrown from the window of the rear room 
of the upper story at 'No. 20 Ballavoine Place, while try- 
ing to make an escape by way of the roof. 

The investigation into. the cause of the disappearance 
of Felix Eosenfel, failed from lack of evidence. The 
reason lay in the fact that the only person, beside the 
criminal himself, who held the clew to the matter, 
would not speak. This person was Mrs. Forsythe. It 
is entirely outside the scope of this simple statement 
of facts, to enter into a description, either of the char- 
acter or the life of this corrupt and unprincipled woman. 
Sometime we shall know the whole truth. Already 
enough is known to make us hold our breath with won- 


244 


THE FACE OF R08EFFEL, 


der and horror. This woman led two lives. In one 
life she was the model of respectability and virtue. 
In the other she had no scruples and no decency. 
The mystery is how she Avas able so long to hide 
the fact that she played this dual role from the 
keen and suspicious glance of society. The reason 
can alone be found in her extraordinary ability and cun- 
ning. This woman was a paragon of deceit and duplic- 
ity. There can no longer be any doubt that poor For- 
sythe was deceived, even as to her purity. Miss Steven- 
son is her own daughter, and the people Avho brought 
her up told one truth Avhen they said that they had al- 
ways been paid large sums for the child^s board, though 
the fact that this money Avas paid Leander Dye, or that 
he even knew them before the necessities of the conspi- 
racy brought these precious people together, is entirely 
improbable. 

Mrs. Forsythe alone kneAV of her brothers connection 
with Leander Dye. She alone kneAv that Mr. Dye had 
been Avith him on the day of his disappearance. She alone 
suspected the truth. The use Avhich she made of these 
suspicions has already been placed before you. After 
years of secret hate, and fear, and bitterness, Avhen the 
AAU'etched Dy:, in a moment of frenzy, at the thought of 
his own degradation, dared to strike the blow that rid 
him forever ei his unscrupulous master, he fell at once, 
by Aurtue of this very deed, under the t3Tanny of a still 
sterner hand. From being a tool in the grasp of the 
man, he became a tool in the grasp of the Avoman; and 
the Avoman was less lenient than the man. 

In a private room on the second floor of the Forsythe 
mansion, on Livingston Street, on the thirtieth day of 
January last, the unfortunate child, who for the previ- 
ous tAvo Aveeks had been knoAvn to the household as Mrs. 
Forsythe^s niece, took ether and submitted to be oper- 
ated upon Avith a cold steel chisel and a red-hot curling- 
iron. Mr. Dye, Avho assisted at that operation, A\^as 
prostrated by the effects for days. ISio more need be said 
for the fortitude and strength of purpose of the Avoman 
who played the dual role of saint and sinner. 


THE HAGB OF BOSEHFFL, 


245 

On the first of June, Leander Dye, after placing his 
valuable knowledge of the facts in relation to the real 
Ethel Forsythe in the hands of the authorities, died at 
the city hospital. Immediately following his confession, 
the body of a man, which was recognized from some 
papers in a pocket to be that of Felix Kosenfel, the Jew, 
was found entangled in the piles, beneath the windows 
of the house, No. 20 Ballavoine Place. 

On the third of June, the executors of the Fors 3 rthe 
will, with the full knowledge and agreement of the rep- 
resentatives of the charitable institutions, which would 
otherwise have profited by the legacy, drew up the 
papers that will make over, legally and formally, that 
portion of the Forsythe estate remaining in their hands 
to Ethel Forsythe, now Mrs. Julian Maxey, and her 
heirs and assigns forever. 

The lawyer^s voice ceased abruptly, and there was 
silence in the room. 

The river glistened in the sun. The summer wind 
rustled the curtains at the windows. 

Miss Maxey smiled. 

The artist looked in a grave, wistful way at his wife. 

As for Mrs Maxey, there was a bright light in her 
wonderful eyes. 


As Maxey went through the narrow passage between 
the two rooms, he met his wife for the first time alone 
since the reading of the lawyer’s document. 

By the light of the gas jet he could see her bright eyes 
shining through the tears, and a feverish glow rising 
into her beautiful cheeks. She threw her arms about 
him in a long and silent embrace. She spoke, but she 
did not lift her head from its resting place on his shoul- 
der: 


246 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 


Dearest husband, it is all yours! For your sake it is 
the greatest joy of my life 

Well, said Maxey, why should you cry about it, 

then 

^'Oh, my dearest husband, I don^t know, but I can^t 
help it/^ 

Neither can 1/’ said Maxey. Deuce take it, I be- 
lieve I am as big a baby as you are!^^ 


At the very moment when Maxey gave way to tears. 
Doctor Lamar sat with a grim, contemptuous expression 
about his lips at his desk, his dry eyes fixed upon a 
stained and almost illegible bit of writing before him, 
the reading of which he had just finished. The letter 
read: 

My Dear Eustace. — If you but knew how your 
cruel words, when I last saw you, have tortured me 
since, you would, oh! I know you would, have forborne 
to utter them. There has not been a day nor an lio'tir, 
in my lonely exile since, when they have not been with 
me. Oh! Eustace, I did love you, and you have so 
cruelly misunderstood me. Are you blind? Can you 
not see that it was for your sake, for yours alone, not 
mine, that I fought out that wretched fight for a future? 
What could I do? Unfortunate speculations and unwise 
management had ruined mine. I know how proud and 
ambitious your mother was. It seemed so easy to re- 
trieve it all by a simple plot which would harm nohohy, 
because they could not know that they were robbed. 
Besides what are people like these to you and me? For 
your sake I would have gone through ten times worse 
and fought a thousand times more desperate battle than 
this, rather than have had you speak to me as you spoke 
to me that night in the carriage. But all is not lost; 
you were beside yourself and I — I too, said that for 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 


247 


which I bitterly repent. You told me that your life was 
ruined, that you had lost your hold upon favor, that your 
practice was slipping away from you. Come, then, 
with me and lay the foundations of a greater fortune in 
a distant place. I will go anyivhere with you, Eustace, 
to the end of the world if need be. E'o other tvoman 
will ever love you as I have loved you. No oih.^Y friend 
will ever fight your battles and scheme day and night 
for your advancement and your greatness as I will fight 
and scheme. I know what mj power \b, overmen. It 
is still great. It will make you great and fortunate 
above all competitors yet, Eustace, if you will come 
with me. These are no vaiii words, uttered in a moment 
of wildness. It is the solemn truth, for I know it better 
than you. And I am not penniless, dear Eustace; I 
have enough left — enough for us both — enough to build 
upon, and I will make it a foundation for your future, if 
you will come with me, dear Eustace. I do not ask you 
for a sacrifice; I do not ask you for a marriage vow; I 
ask you only for yourself and your presence and your 
love. I will give you everything, myself and all I have, 
and ask for nothing in return, if you will but come with 
me, aear Eustace. Come; oh, come! The light is 
fading and I cannot see to write. I am so impatient 
that you shall get this and understand all that I offer 
you, that I shall hasten to the post with it myself, leav- 
ing unsaid so much that I might say, till I shall see you. 
Do not stop to answer it. Do not pause to say good-by 
to this humdrum life which you will not regret, but 
^ome on the wings of love and passion, to your 

Eostelle. 

^^What fools men are,^^ said Lamar within himself. 

Time was, I doubt not, when inis bit of writing would 
have filled me with a fever and a fire that would have 
burned down all before it. I should have sacrificed 
everything and rushed like a fool to my doom. Thank 
God, I am no longer young. No. Matters of this sort 
shall como into my life no more, I will devote myself 


248 


THE FACE OF R08ENFEL. 


from this time forth to my neglected business. I will 
build up my practice^ restore myself to favor, and suc- 
ceed, and then 

He stopped. The thought of a sweet smile, a frank 
and kindly hand, a warm womanly presence, in which 
he had so often, in the chambers above the river, for- 
gotten the worry and the care that oppressed him, stole 
into his heart — and somehow it cheered and comforted 
him. 


THK KM-D, 


DENMAN THOMPSON’S OLD HOMESTEAD. 


STSEET & SMITH’S SELECT SERIES No. 23- 


X*rice, 25 OentA. 


Some ODinions of the Press. 

•• As the probabilities are remote of the play * The Old Homestead » being 
Been anywhere but in large cities It is only fair that the story of the piece shoula 
be printed. Like most stories written from plays it contains a great deal vviiich 
Is not said or done on the boards, yet It Is no more verbose than such a story 
should be and it gives some good pictures of the scenes and people who for a 
year or more have been delighting thousands nightly. Uncle Josh, Aunt Tildy, 
Old Cy Prime, Reuben, the mythical Bill Jones, the sheriff and all the other char- 
acters are here, beside some new ones. It Is to be honed tiiat the book win make 
a large sale, not only on Its merits, but that other play owners may feel encour- 
aged to let their works be read by the many thousands who cannot hope to see 
them on the stage.”— iV. Y. Herald, June 2d. 

“ Denman Thompson’s ‘The Old Homestead’ Is a story of clouds and sunshine 
alternating over a venerat d home; of a grand old man. honest and blunt, who 
loves his honor as he loves his life, yet suffers the agony of the condemned in 
learning of the deplorable conduct of a wayward son; a story of country life, love 
and jealousy, without an impure thought, and with the healthy flavor of the 
fields in every chapter. It is founded on Denman Thompson s drama of ‘The 
Old Homestead.’ iV. Y. Press, May 26th. 

“ Messrs. Street & Smith, publishers of the New Toric Weekly, have brought 
out in book-form the story of ‘ The Old Homestead,’ the play which, as produced 
by Mr. Denman Thompson, has met with such wondrous success. It will proba- 
bly have a great sale, thus justifying the foresight of the publishers in giving the 
drama this permanent fiction forra.”~X Y. Morning Journal, June 2d. 

“The popularity of Denman Thompson’s play of • The Old Homestead’ has 
encouraged Street & Smith, evidently with his permission, to publish a good-sized 
novel with the same title, set in the same scenes and including the same charac- 
ters and more too. The book is a fair match for the play in the simple good taste 
and real ability with which It Is written. The publishers are Street & Smith, and 
they have gotten the volume up in cheap popular form. ’’—-A’. Y. Graphic, May 29. 

“Denman Thompson’s play, ‘The Old Homestead,’ is familiar, at least by rep- 
utatlon, to every piay-goer in the country. Its truth to nature and Its simple 
pathos have been admirably preserved In this story, which is founded upon It 
and follows its Incidents closely. The requirements of the stag make the action 
a little hurried at times, but the scenes described are brougiit before the mind’s 
eye with remarkable vividness, and the portrayal of life in the little New Eng- 
land town is almost perfect. Those who have never seen the play can get an 
excellent idea of what it Is like from the book. Both are free from sentimentahn*' 
and sensation, and are remarkably healthy in tone.”— AZOan?/ Express. 

“Denman Thompson’s ‘Old Homestead’ has been put into story-iorm ana \a Is- 
sued by Street & Smith. The story will somewhat explain to those who have not 
seen It the great popularity of the play.”— Times, June 8th. 

“The fame of Denman Thompson’s play, ‘Old Homestead,’ Is world-wide. 
Tens of thousands have enjoyed it, and frequently recall the pure, lively pleasure 
they took in Its representation. This is the story told in narrative form as well 
as It was told on the stage, and will be a treat to all, whether they seen the 
play or not.'*— National Tribune, Washington, D. C. 

“Here we have the shaded lanes, the dusty roads, the hilly pastures, the 
peaked roofs, the school-house, and the familiar faces of dear old Swanzey, and 
the story which, dramatized, has packed the largest theater in New York, and 
has been a success everywhere because of its true and sympathetic touches of 
nature. All the incidents which have held audiences spell-bound are here re- 
corded— the accusation of robbery directed against the innocent boy, his shame* 
and leaving home ; the dear old Aunt Tilda, who has been courted for thirty 
years by the mendacious Cy Prime, wlio has never had the courage to propose ; 
the fall of the country boy into the temptations of city life, and his recovery by 
the good old man who braves the metropolis to find lilm. The story embodies aU 
that the play tells, and all that it suggests as welL”— Aarisas Citu Journai, 
ll«yS7th* 


BERTHA M. CLAY’S 

Xj^^DESS'X* 

Copyright Novels, 

i3sr 

The Select Series. 

X*i:*ioe, as Oexxtss iEZstclx. 


FULLY ILLUSTRATED. 


No. 22.-A HEART’S BITTERNESS. 

No. 28.-A HEART’S IDOL. 

No. 36.-THE aiPSY’S DAUGHTER. 
No. 37.-IN LOVES CRUCIBLE. 

No. 39.-MARJORIE DEANE. 

These novels are among the best ever writ- 
ten by BERTHA M. CLAY, and are enjoying 
an enormous sale. They are copyrighted and 
can be had only in THE SELECT SERIES. 


For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or will be sent, post- 
paid, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt of 
price, 25 cents each, by 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

P. 0. Box 2734. 81 Rose Street, New York. 


Mrs. Georgie Sheldon’s 

Copyright Novels, 

IN' 

The Select Series. 


Fi^ice, 25 Oexxtis lES^olx. 


FULLY ILLUSTEATED. 


No. 16-SIBYL’S INFLUENCE. 

No. 24-THAT DOWDY. 

No. 43-TRIXY. 

No. 44-A TRUE ARISTOCRAT. 

These novels, from the pen of our gifted au- 
thor, who writes exclusively for us, are among 
her most popular productions, and hold the front 
rank in first-class literature. 


For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or will be sent, post- 
paid, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt of 
price, 25 cents each, by 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

P. 0. Box 2734. 31 Rose Street, New York. 


THE SELECT SEEIES. 

OF 

POPULAR AMERICAN COPYRIGHT STORIES. 

No. 47— SADIA THE ROSEBUD, by Julia Edwards 26 

No. 46-A 3IOME\T OF MADxN ESS, by Charles J. Bellamy 25 

No. 45- WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, by Charlotte M. Brame 25 

No. 44— A TRUE ARISTOCRAT, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 26 

No. 43— TRIXY, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 42— A DEBT OF VENGEANCE, by Mrs. E. Burke Collins 25 

No. 41— BEAUTIFUL RIENZI, by Annie Ashmore 25 

No. 40— AT A GIRL’S MERCY, by Jean Kate Ludlum 25 

No. 39-MAR.JORIE DEANE, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 38-BEAUTIFUL BUT POOR, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 37— IN LOVE’S CRUCIBLE, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 3(i-THE GIPSY’S DAUGHTER, by Bertha 31. Clay 25 

No. 35-CECILE’S MARRIAGE, by Lucy Randall Comfort 25 

No. 34— THE LITTLE 3VIDOW, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 33— THE COUNTY FAIR, by Neil Burgess 25 

No. 32— LADY RYHOPE’S LOVER, by Emma Garrison Jones 25 

No. 31-3IARRIED FOR GOLD, by Mrs. E. Burke Collins 25 

No. 30-PRETTIEST OP ALL, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 29-THE HEIRESS OF EGREMONT, by 3Irs. Harriet Lewis 25 

No. 28— A HEART’S IDOL, by Bertha iM. Clay 25 

No. 27— 3VINIFRED, by 3Iary Kyle Dallas 25 

No. 26— FONTELROY, by Francis A. Durivage 25 

No. 25— THE KING’S TALISMAN, by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr 26 

No. 24— THAT DOWDY, by 3Irs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 23-DENMAN THOMPSON’S OLD H03IESTEAD 26 

No. 22— A HEART’S BITTER3IESS, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 21— THE LOST BRIDE, by Clara Augusta 26 

No. 20— INGOMAR, by Nathan D. Unier 25 

No. 10— A LATE REPENTANCE, by 3Irs. 3Iary A. Denison 26 

No. 18 — ROSA3IOND, by 3Irs. Alex, 3IcVeigh 3Iiller 25 

No. 17— THE HOUSE OF SECRETS, by 3Irs. Harriet Lewis !! 25 

No. 16-SIBYL’S INFLUENCE, by Sirs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 15— THE VIRGINIA HEIRESS, by Slay Agnes Fleming 25 

No. 14— FLORENCE FALKLAND, by Burke Brentford 25 

No. 13— THE BRIDE ELECT, by Annie Ashmore 25 

No. 12— THE PHANTOM 3VIFE, by Sirs. SI. V. Victor 25 

No. 11— BADLY MATCHED, by Sirs. Helen Corwin Pierce 25 

No. 10— OCTAVIA’S PRIDE, by Charles T, Slanners 25 

ISO. 0— THE WIDOIV’S 3VAGER, by Rose Ashleigh 25 

No. 8— 3VILL SHE WIN? by Emma Garrison Jones 25 

No. 7— GRATIA’S TRIALS, by Lucy Randall Comfort 25 

No. 6— A STORMY 3VEDDING, by Sirs. Slary E. Bryan 26 

No. 5-BRUNETTE AND BLONDE, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 25 

No, 4— BONNY JEAN, by Mrs. E. Burke Collins 25 

No. 3— VELLA VERNELL ; or. An Amazing Slarriage, by Mrs. Sumner Hayden. 26 

No. 2— A 3VEDDED WID03V, by T. W. Hanshew 25 

No. 1— THE SENATOR’S BRIDE, by Sirs. Alex. SIcVeigh Miller 25 

These popular hooks are large type editions, well printed, well bound, and 
In handsome covers. For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers; or sent, 
postage free, on receipt of price, 25 cents each, by the publishers, 

STREET & SMITH, 

85 to 81 Bose Street, Kew Tork. 


P. O. Box 2734. 


POPULAR AMERICAN COPYRICHT NOVELS^ 

BY NOTABLE AUTHORS. 


THE 


IJ 


J 


ffllTHOILfOWS: 


OR, 


THE WEAVER’S WAR. 


By PROFESSOR WM, HENRY PECK, 


AUTHOR OF 


‘‘Marlin Mardnke,” “£15,000 Howard,” “Siballa, 

the Sorceress,” etc. 


From the very openin'? para^rapTi this powerful and intensely exciting 
romance eucoaius tlie attention and keeps curiosity constantly active. The 
scene opens in the manufacturing center of Lyons, during a troublesome 
period in iier history, when the laboring classes strove to maintain tlieir 
rights against the nobility. The hero, whom fate has made an humble 
workman, finds opportunity for the display of those self-asserting qualities, 
w^hich always force their possessor to the front in every contest. While 
most of the action is thrilling and dramatic, a captivating love episode is 
adroitly interwoven with the main thread of the romance. The myste.*^ 
appertaining to the early life of the Locksmith, the appalling accusation 
which makes him the victim of unseen foes, his fortitude in the most trying 
positions, and his final vindication and reward, are forcibly and sympatheti- 
cally set forth in this well constructed story. 


RRICR, 25 CICNTS. 


STEEET & SMITH, Publishers, 

V. O. Bex, 2734. ^ 31 ROSE STREET. New Torb. 


BEN HAMED; 

OR, 

THE CHILDEEN OF FATE. 

By SYLYANUS COBB, Jr. 


/ 



JPx*ice, 25 Oexxts. 


WHAT THE PRESS SAT OF IT. 

Hained’* is an Oriental romance by Sylvanus Cobb» which recalls 
the deliglitlul stories of the “Arabian Nights,” without their supernatural 
eifects. Indeed, our old frien<l Harouii AT Easchid figures proiiiinently in 
this work, and is closely identified with the hero and heroine— the devoted 
Assad and the fair Morgiaua. It is a romance of pure love, with an in- 
genious and cleverly sustained plot.— Oranc? Rapids BemocraU Aug, 8. 

“Ben Hamed” is the title of an Oriental romance not unlike the stories of 
the “Arabian Nights.” It is a romance of pure love. A number of strong 
characters combine with the hero and heroine in the solution of an ingenious 
"plot.— Harrisburg Patriot, July 28. 

Street & Smith of New York have published “Ben Hamed; or. The Chil- 
dren of Fate,” by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr., which is No. 8 of the Sea and Shore 
Series. This book is an Oriental romance, which recalls the “Arabian 
Nights,” without their supernatural effects. The plot is ingenious ;ind well 
sustained, and brings out a romance of pure love in a charming manner.— 
—^an Francisco Morning Call, July 21. 

“Ben Hamed” is an Oriental romance by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr., published in 

g aper by Street & Smith, New York city. It is clever in the way that all of 
obb’s stories are clever.— Bidianapolis News, July 20. 

“Ben Hamed Is a capital story, pro^essive in action, interesting from 
the opening line, and with a charming love romance, on which are strung 
many remarkable incidents. — Acton Star, July 21. 

A capital story of Eastern life, which must have been suggested by a 
perusal of the “Arabian Nights,” is Sylvanus Cobb’s Oriental narrative of 
“Ben Hamed ; or. The Children of Fate.” It is admirably told, full of in- 
terest, and cannot fail to charm all who begin its perusal. — J/owtoua 
Sun, Sept. 22. 

Street «fe Smith, of the New York Weekly, have published “Ben 
Hamed; or. The Children of Fate,” by Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. This is an 
Oriental romance, accentuated by a very strong and ingenious plot.— 
Paul Pioneer Press, July 2i. 

Street & Smith, New York, publish in paper covers “Ben Hamed,” an 
Oriental romance, by Sylvanus Cobb, which recalls the delightful stories of 
the “Arabian Nights,” without their supernatural effects.” — Cincinnati 
Enquirer. 

“Ben Hamed,” an Oriental romance, by Sylvanus Cobb, is published by 
Street & Smith, New York. It is one of Cobb’s characteristic romances, 
Haroun A1 Rascdiid being a prominent figure. There is nothing strained or 
unnatural in “Ben Hazaed,” it recalling the stories of the “Arabian Nights,” 
Without their supernatural ef£eQt^,— Minneapolis July 2h, 



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WOMEN’S SECRETS 


The public are at last permitted to take a peep into the 
wonderful and mysterious art of 

“HOW TO BE BEAUTIFUL.” 

We will soon become a nation of Beauty. Read how, in the table of 

CO NTKNTH : 

THl] VALUE OP PERSONAL BEAUTY.— Tills chapter relates to the heauty 
in “Genius.” “siiength,” “ReliKion ” “1‘netry,” ami “Chivalry.” 

HISTORY OP BEA UTY.— Moile of acquiring it by the people of different 
nations. What people are tlie most beautiful? 

VARIOUS STANDARDS OP BEAU'TY.— Tastes of civilized and uncivilized 
people. Tlie Prencli definition of beauty 

THE BEST STANDARD OF BEAUTY.— Defines the Head, Hair, Eyes, Cheeks, 
Ears, Nose, Mouth, Bosom, Limbs, ami in fact every part of the human form. 

HOW TO RAISE BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN.— To newly married people, and 
those who contemplate entering the conjugal state, this chapter alone is 
well worth the price of the book. 

HOW TO BE BEAUTIFUL.— This chaptei iS full of information, as it not only 
tells how to beautify every part of the form and. features, but gives recipes 
and cures for all the ailments which tend to mar or blemish. 

BEAUTY SLEEP.— To be beautiful it is not necessary to be like the bird that 
seeks its nest at sunset and goes forth again at sunrise. You will here find 
the required time to be spent in bed, the positions most conducive to health, 
facts regarding ventilation, bed-clothes, adorniuents, and other useful hints. 

BEAUTY FOOD.— Instructs how, when, and where to eat, and also treats of 
Digestion, Complexion, Foods which color th^ skin, etc. 

HOW TO BE FAT.— The information imparted in this chapter will be a boon to 
thin, delicate wonlen, as it tells what to eat and what to avoid, also what to 
drink and h^ to dress when plumpness is desirable. 

HOW TO' BE LEAN.— If corpulent women will carefully follow the instructions 
herein, they will be happy and enjoy life. 

BEAUTY BATHING- AND EXERCISE. — This chapter is intended for every 
one to read and profit by. There is no truer saying than “Cleanliness is next 
to Godliness.” 

EFFECTS OF MENTAL EMOTIONS ON BEAUTY.— After you read this, we 
feel safe in saying that you will not give way to anger, surprise, fright, grief, 
vexation, etc., but will .at all times strive to be cheerful and make the best 
of life. 

HOW BEAUTY IS DESTROYED —The women are warned in this chapter 
against quack doctors and their nostrums, the dangers of overdosing, and 
irregular habits. 

HOW TO REMAIN BEAUTIFUL.— It is just as easy for those that are beauti- 
ful to remain so as to allow themselves to fa<le away like a flower which 
only blooms for a season. 

HOW TO ACQUIRE GRACE AND STYLE.— Without grace and style beauty 
is lost They are as essential as a beautiful face. To walk ungracefully or 
awkwardly is not only vulgar but detrimental to the health. 

THE LANGUAGE OF BEAUTY.— This chapter will enable you to read a per- 
son and learn his or her character, without the use of a phrenological chart, 

CORSETS.- When and what kind should be worn. How they were originated, 
and by whom. 

CYCLING.— The latest craze for ladies is fully described in this chapter. 


WOBEN’S SECRETS ; or, How to be BeaatiM 

THE BEST SELLING BOOK OF THE DAY. 


«Tiist Oixt. I*rice J3S Oents, 

For Hale by all Newsdealers. 


STREET & SMITH, Publishers. 

31 H,ose Htreet* 



Ae, i4-/ 

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PIGHTmO FOR IT. 

Here is a ^ood-natured scramble for a calie of Pears* Soap, which only 
illustrates how ne<*essary it becomes to all people who have once tried it 
and discovered its merits. Borne who ask for it have to flirht for it in a 
more serious way, and tlmt too in drug stores where all sorts of vile and 
' nferior soaps are urged upon them as substitutes. But they can always 
get the genuine Pears’ Soap, if they will be as persistent as are these urchins. 







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